


I'll Be There For You

by HotTopic97



Series: High School AUs [1]
Category: Gunslinger Girl
Genre: Crack Fic, Everyone Has Issues, Flirting, Get Over It., Humor, I don't feel comfortable writing that just yet, I will include pick up lines :), Ideky, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Innuendo, Modern AU, Multi, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Very Bad Flirting, Very OOC, and I need to give you guys a humor fic, another two cents, especially since I live and breathe humor, kind of, let's get roooight into it shall we?, meaning no SWA and FRF, tagging has gotten way off topic, that this anime DESPERATELY needs, yes - Freeform, yes the title is a Friends reference :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-01-16 10:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 78,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12341115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotTopic97/pseuds/HotTopic97
Summary: It's a hell of a ride for everyone.





	1. welcome to a new kind of tension

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brony4Ever1992](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brony4Ever1992/gifts), [epicwriter87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/epicwriter87/gifts).



> Hey, what's up everyone, it's your boi HotTopic97 here. Thank you guys for tuning in to this little AU of mine! :) And yes, it's official:I've been sucked into the black hole known as anime. LOL
> 
> Honestly though, I think my like of anime started in second grade when I started watching Dragon Ball Z Kai. I liked it, but not enough to get full-on obsessed with it. Then I came across some YouTube video, and I ended up finding this lovely little anime called Gunslinger Girl the following year. I had only seen the first two episodes, but I guess it was enough for my lovely little imagination to spiral around it. But sadly, like Dragon Ball Z Kai, I wasn't full-on obsessed with it.  
> Then this year, I got OBSESSED with this anime, thanks to a friend of mine who is a HUGE ANIME NERK. He didn't reintroduce me to the anime, he just showed me stuff like OnePiece, Dragon Ball Z, Hentai, etc...then I somehow remembered Gunslinger Girl...and long story short, it is up there with my top fandom obsessions:Star Wars, Batman, and Red vs. Blue. 
> 
> I urge you, anime nerk or not, to GO WATCH THIS ANIME. It may have a pretty screwed-up plot, but it's really worth watching. It's got some of the best character development I've ever seen, kickass scenes of action, and best of all:the girls are bringing kickaseery like no one has ever seen. The Jedi don't have shit on these ladies! :D GO WATCH THIS FANTABULOUS SERIES NOW!!!!!
> 
> Okay, promotional rambling is over. Continue to read. :D

"What...the actual  _fuck..._ is this shit?", asked a grumpy Elsa de Sica as she plopped onto the seat across from her acquaintance Claes, who was blasting some classical garbage from her phone.

The raven-haired teen narrowed her violet eyes at the comment. "This  _shit,_ as you  _so_ elegantly put it, is Beethoven's Symphony No. 9. It's one of the greatest classical pieces in the history of music. It's one of Beethoven's last pieces, and one of his most recognizable and admired. And that's just one of the pieces of his legacy—"

"Sheesh, okay, I didn't need the history lesson", Elsa snapped. "I already have to deal with 45 minutes worth of that crap from Mr. Nap-Inducer, I don't need an extra mini-trivia."

"You hardly pay attention in World History, anyway", Claes shot back. "And Mr. Napier isn't a bad teacher...you're just not a good or respectful student." 

"Again with the respect thing", Elsa mumbled. "You know, it's hard to have respect for someone who insists on giving us these big ass packets to fill in and read day after day. I almost got tendonitis from working on that last one." 

Claes raised a thin eyebrow. "What I remember from last night is you complaining for two hours about the number of questions, refusing my offers for help on said questions, and then quitting rather dramatically. I don't remember a simple hand cramp being the reason."

Elsa released a mix between a sigh and a groan, and leaned her head back against the double-paned window. It was 7:43 a.m., _way_ too goddamn early in the morning for her liking, and _way_ too goddamn early to have an argument, as she was sorely lacking in energy and patience. 

It was a wonder that her attendance in school was something that Lauro cared about. Out of all the things concerning her, school was at the top of the list. And just like everything else as far as their relationship went...it made no sense whatsoever. She guessed it was just to make her life just a bit worse. How thoughtful of that bastard.

She could skip...ask a teacher to use the bathroom and run out of the school, but she was...a little concerned...that she would get caught in the act, or someone would catch her pattern, and then catch her and get the cops involved. She wasn't that crafty yet.

...damn Triela and her good girl self. That pig-tailed princess may be one of the only people she had some sense of trust for, but that didn't mean she had to like the influence she had on her. It was like she was...changing her into a different person. 

It felt weird. And not the butterflies in your stomach kind of weird. A bad weird. And she didn't like it.

Great. She was thinking. Too much. Again. 

So to avoid those thoughts from totally consuming her brain, she slipped off her blue backpack, unzipped the very back zipper, and pulled out a green composition notebook, opening it to come face to face with her latest doodle as she caught the falling pencil she used as a bookmark.

She smiled to herself at her handiwork. It took her two and a half weeks to finish this new piece, and she felt it was one of the best she'd done. If she was gonna get really carried away with the positivity, she'd say this was her first masterpiece. But there was always reality to help keep her chained to the ground. To keep her from getting too big of a head, as Lauro put it.

Nobody knew what was in her notebook. And she'd prefer to keep it that way. They'd all laugh at her more than she'd be able to handle. She was sure Triela would be one of them too, even though what little trust she had in her believed otherwise, but if she ended up backstabbed by her too, she wouldn't be surprised. 

Backstabbing was tiring, and for the most part, painful, but she was used to it. It was part of life. Life was one big fat fucking bitch that way.

She took the pencil and started writing words above her artwork. It was wobbly-looking, thanks to the moving vehicle she and the other heathens called other students were sitting in, so she had to take it slow. But whatever. Her writing was rather messy anyway, so it worked, kinda.

_You are invincible, I can't break through your world_

_Because you live in shades of cool; your heart is unbreakable_

Suddenly, the bus gradually came to a stop, just when the blonde began to admire the inscription above her artwork. She made a mental note to add inscriptions like the one above her latest piece more frequently. 

Just as she was putting her notebook away, with the pencil tucked in the next page for the next time, she felt a poke at the toe of her tennis shoe. The blonde jerked her head up in surprise, wondering who would poke her shoe, and for what purpose. (She had an uneasy feeling that it was one of those wannabe jock boys wanting to prove how much of a man he was by tormenting her.) 

The perpetrator turned out to be none other than a girl who couldn't be older than ten, with neck-length light brown hair and eyes a chocolate brown that matched the tentativeness of her short form. The girl looked rather formal, wearing a heather gray button jacket, white dress shirt, and matching gray skirt. She basically looked like she where heading to some sort of business meeting. To be honest, this girl looked like a total dork. No doubt her parents must've put her in that outfit. She almost felt sorry for her. 

Almost...

"Um, excuse me...", the midget started  _talking_ to her, and  _damn_ was her voice _high-pitched. I_ _nnocent._ What was this kid, five? "Hi. M-my name is Henrietta...and-and this is Rico..." The midget...Henrietta...gestured to another kid...Rico, who waved at her with a shy smile, and  _what the fuck was that hair style?!_

The girl's BFF or whatever, had quite possibly the  _strangest_ and most  _retarded_ looking hairstyle Elsa had ever seen in her entire life. She...or he...whatever the fuck this bitch...or son of a bitch...gah! Whatever this kid's  _gender_ was, Elsa understood this was America, she respected individuality, but whoever had their hair with sideburns or _whatever the fuck_ _those strands of hair were supposed to be...Jesus..._ in the front of their head and some kind of boy hairstyle with it...needed to be quarantined  _immediately._ They needed to be kept away from society _permanently._ That hairstyle was seriously  _painful_ to look at. That wasn't a joke, that wasn't a euphemism—it was like looking at the most pale naked man on earth—but 5 times worse.

"W-we were wondering if we could share seats", Henrietta was still talking to her. 

As soon as the words "share seats" came out of her mouth, Elsa already knew the answer to that question.

" _No_ ", she snapped harshly. "You may not. This seat's claimed, kid. I don't share."

The kid's expression was one of shock. "But, um...I really want to sit next with Rico..."

"Do I look I care, kid?", Elsa hissed. "This. seat. is.  _taken._ Now piss off."

"Why don't _you_ piss off, Elsa?!", Claes shot back angrily. "There's no reason to be a bitch to everyone you come across!" 

"What's going on back there?", the bus driver asked impatiently. 

Claes, Henrietta, and Rico snapped to attention while Elsa, who didn't really give a shit, pulled out her composition notebook again, and stared at the blank page, trying to think of another idea for her next drawing. She barely noticed the couple of kids staring at them, and ignored the annoying "Ooooooh", of an immature kid. 

"N-nothing!", she heard Claes call back. "Just a little disagreement, that's all. Nothing to worry about. I'll control myself next time."

Elsa's gaze then went to the front mirror where she saw the bus driver's less than friendly gaze settled on Claes's direction. 

"Stay quiet back there", the middle-aged bastard grumbled. "Hurry up and find a seat, you two. I ain't got all morning."

She then saw Henrietta visibly start to shake, and Rico wince uneasily.

For a small moment, Elsa felt a little bit of guilt for making the girl and her non-binary muppet pal upset. She felt bad for pushing them away like that, the poor things just wanted somewhere to sit. Even though she could only fit one on a seat (bus policy was two to a seat). They had no harmful intention.

But she brushed the feeling aside as fast as it came. She knew damn well how this cycle went. She'd rather not go through it for the gazillionth and first time. 

"Hey Henrietta", Claes said, turning her attention to the brunette. "You can sit with me, if you'd like. I don't bite, unlike Ice Queen over there." She regarded Elsa with a cold stare. Elsa paid no mind to it, nor did she pay no mind to the snickers coming from the two kids in front of her. 

"Yeah...and your friend can sit behind us", the raven-haired girl added. She turned her attention to the agender alien. "Don't mind Dante back there, he just sleeps. He doesn't bother anybody."

The girls seemed to take this in, and a moment later, Henrietta sat down next to Claes, and Rico sat behind them, next to Dante Walker, said kid who just caught up on sleep in that seat everyday.

She really wished she had that ability.

Finally, the bus started again, continuing its journey towards the hellhole known as school.

* * *

 "So...what's your name?", Henrietta asked.

It took a moment to respond, as she was digging through her backpack for her homework folder, just to make sure she had her two homework assignments given to her yesterday.

"My name is Claes", the black haired teen responded, maintaining her conversational tone as she quickly found and pulled out the thin plastic folder.

"Claes...that's a nice name", the short brunette said with a sweet smile. "My name is Henrietta."

Despite herself, Claes chuckled. "Yes, I know. I heard you say so to Elsa." She opened her folder, and found both her Algebra and Home Ec assignments inside.  _Good,_ she thought, settling her OCD down for the time being.

"Oh", the girl beside her said, a little embarrassed. 

"So do you go to Woodland Heights, too?", asked a voice behind her. The bespectacled tween turned around to find that Henrietta's friend, Rico, had joined into the conversation, and was peeking above the seat rather eagerly. She nodded slowly in response. 

The blonde's face  _lit up,_ as if she was presented with a brand-new puppy. "Cool!", she exclaimed. "Maybe we could be hang out and have classes together!"

"Yeah, that'd be cool!", Henrietta chimed in. "But...I don't really remember where all my classes are", she added with an awkward chuckle.

"I can help you out", suggested Rico. "Me and Jean went seeing were all my classes were two days ago. I know where mostly everything is."

"Wait a second, you guys are new here?", Claes asked, noticing the change in topic.

"Yep! We moved here from Lansing a month and a half ago", answered Rico. "My guardian Jean and his brother Jose got new jobs here in Kenova. So now, here we are...headed to school."

"That's cool", Claes acknowledged. "You guys like it here so far?"

"Well, we haven't really been...around, yet", Henrietta replied. Claes nodded, knowing what she meant. "We've just been moving boxes and furniture in and everything...but the neighborhood we live in seems nice." 

"That's good", Claes said with a smile. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into the raven-haired teen's head. She opened up her red homework folder, searched through a few pages, and found her school schedule. 

Her memory was normally sharp as a tack, but she had a motto that one could never be too sure. She had the same classes, in the same order, for both semesters, another reason for Triela to pester her on why she didn't need the schedule, but as her motto for life went, one could never be so sure of themselves. 

Meeting new people and helping them out some was another reason.

"Hey...you guys got your schedules?", Claes asked the two girls.

"Yeah, sure do! It's in my pocket, hold on", Rico replied, digging in her khaki pocket and pulling out a folded up piece of paper, while Henrietta went searching for it in her floral-patterned backpack. 

Once both parties had their school schedules out, Claes told them, "Okay, cool. Now we can see if we have some of the same classes."

Rico looked at her schedule for a moment. "Do you have A Lunch?"

 _O...kay then._ Claes giggled at this question. "Yes, I have A Lunch. All freshmen and sophomores do."

"Are you a freshman?", Henrietta asked. 

Claes shook her head and said, "Mm-mmm. Sophomore."

"Oh...", Henrietta said. "...well I guess that means lunch is the only time we'll see each other inside of school, then..."

"Not exactly", Claes replied. "Some classes have both freshmen and sophomores in them. Usually, those are electives and gym classes. Then there's the science and history classes. We haven't even looked at each other's schedules, either."

"Here", Rico handed Claes her schedule almost immediately. The bespectacled teen took the paper the blonde was handing to her, and looked it over as well as her own. After a moment or two, she had found some positive results. 

"Well, it looks like we _do_ have some classes together, Rico", Claes said to the blonde girl behind her. "We both have Wellness for 3rd period and we both have Mr. Napier for World History 7th period." 

A thousand-watt smile spread on Rico's face. "Awesome! I love Phys Ed, it's my favorite class! Are you guys playing basketball in there right now?"

"...No, but we  _are_ running 30 laps and learning how to hit volleyballs."

Rico clenched her fist, a sour expression replacing her once-giddy one. "Dammit!", she cursed. 

"What's Wellness?", Henrietta asked, confused.

"It's basically what our school calls regular P.E.", Claes explained. "Can I see your schedule really quick?"

"Sure", the short brunette answered, handing her her school schedule, which the bespectacled girl began to look over along with her own.

"Well?", Henrietta asked. "What do they say?"

"Well, it seems that we have three of the same classes", Claes answered. Beside her, Henrietta's face lit up excitedly. "We have Health Science 1st period, Spanish 4th period, and World History 7th period."

"Wow! That's great!", Henrietta exclaimed. "Maybe we could work on projects together and be buddies!"

"Yeah, that sounds nice", Claes said. "And if you want to, I could introduce you guys to some of my friends and we can hang out."

The 'how does that sound?' went unspoken, as the girls's faces beamed impossibly brighter. "That'd be cool! I'd really like that!", Rico replied.

"Yeah! Totally!", Henrietta added.

Claes smiled. Then the bus started to slow down, a precursor they had arrived at their destination:Woodland Heights High School. 

 _Well...here we go_ , Claes thought, getting her things together.  _New day, new bullshit._

She spared a glance at Henrietta and Rico, who were getting their stuff together as well.

_And maybe **some** perks._

The bus came to a stop, and the sliding doors opened. All the kids that attended Woodland Heights stood up and started to get off, except Rico, who dashed off like her pants were on fire, yelling out, "FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!" while doing so.

In her bemusement, Claes figured that Rico was heading towards the cafeteria. She wondered for a split second if she should follow, with Rico being a new student and all, but in the next split second, she remembered her saying she knew most of where everything was, so she figured the apparently hungry teen would be fine.

Ignoring Elsa's grumbling about Rico yelling nearly damaging her eardrums, she followed Henrietta out of the bus and out to the back of the school, which made up the school's bus loop. 

"So...is Rico always that hungry?", Claes asked.

Henrietta sighed in annoyance, but it wasn't directed at her. "Yeah", she answered flatly. "I swear, even if she had a full-coarse meal, she'd ask for thirds within four minutes."

Claes chuckled. "Well, we are teenagers, and when you're at that age you start to grow quickly, and your body needs to consume more calories than when you were little. Of course, that depends on your metabolism rate, and your age, gender and growth rate, but it seems to me that Rico has a high metabolism, therefore she gets hungry, as her body wants to consume more calories."

"That's great, but that doesn't make her any less of a pig!", Henrietta complained. Then she put her hand over her right ear, rubbing it slightly. "God, she nearly busted my ear too. She's getting louder than my coach from last year, and he screamed in our faces louder than a screaming baby."

Claes chuckled again as she opened the back door. "So do you want to head to Health Science instead of sitting in the auditorium for 15 minutes?"

Henrietta looked at her for a moment, trying to come up with an answer. A moment later, she nodded her head and said, "Sure."

They headed down the hall, heading to their first class of the day while continuing their conversation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody get the twenty øne piløts references? ;)


	2. the best people in life are free

Triela Hilshire was just finishing her cereal in the cafeteria, surprisingly with no one else occupying the table. But unlike all the other times this was so, the blonde was kinda grateful for it. Last night was  _really_ something she wanted to forget. And she  _really_ didn't want to be around anybody, especially Angelica Toni, the sole reason last night was 100% shit. 

...Okay, maybe  _she_ had a part to play in that little awkward situation, but Angelica was like, 97% of the cause. She just  _had_ to bring up the skate park incident, she just  _had_ to. And she  _had_ to not only bring it up in front of Matt, the guy she had a crush on for the last 3 months, but  _exaggerate it in full detail._

She wanted to throttle the little prick so much, but as it turned out, Matt was _gay,_ and he'd been taken since the end of the last school year. (They both had Snapchat to prove it.) Which was a bit of a bummer; but not for her black haired friend's case. For that reason alone, she shouldn't even be mad at her.

But regardless, her best friend had chased him away, and now he probably thought she was some kind of perverted creep who randomly dumped slurpees from 7-Eleven on little 10-year-old kids. 

 _And no doubt he's probably squealed to his boyfriend and all his straight friends,_ she thought bitterly. That certainly wasn't going to help her reputation any.

It'd been 2 years since she'd last been off the market, and by this point she was more than ready to get back in the game. She couldn't describe how sick she was of hearing all the girls, friends and acquaintances alike, gush about their boyfriends and how loving and handsome they were and what they just did the day before, knowing she was in the minority of single ladies just itching for that same validation from a boy. That wasn't a jackass jock and a total airhead, of course.

_Damn it single boys, where **are** you?! Come out so I can pick one of you to be mine!!_

A loud _BANG!_ snapped her from her thoughts and scared the living daylights and a gasp out of her. The pigtailed blonde looked up abruptly to see the _very last person she wanted to see._

Angelica Toni.

God really hated her today.

"Greetings, Tree!", the little arse greeted...a little too excitedly. "Guess who's got a date set up with Fleccia at the theater this Thursday?!"

Triela merely narrowed her eyes as Angelica slowly pointed at herself with her thumbs as her smile widened.

"This gal!", she stated proudly. "Yep, that's right!"

She slammed her hands on the blue octagonal table. "This chick is officially _taken!_ By a _nother_ chick!!"

"Angelica what the actual  _fuck_ where you thinking last night?!", Triela barked. 

The raven haired girl startled in surprise.  _Good._

"What do you mean?", she asked innocently.

"Don't play stupid with me!", Triela snapped. "You know  _damn_ well what happened last night with Matt! You should also know your 'short-term memory' isn't gonna cut it this time!"

Angelica's expression turned shrewd. "Hey, I can't help it that I forget what I just did 20 seconds ago! My brain's thought process is entirely involuntary!!"

"Yeah well your  _long_ -term memory should work just fine, last time I checked!"

"What the heck is going on with you, Triela?!", Angelica asked hotly. "Jesus, is it that time of the month again? In case you didn't notice, there's plenty of people selling chocolate bars for FCCLA, just talk to one of them and give them a buck."

She started to leave, but the blonde grabbed her arm and pulled her back, the smaller girl yelping in surprise. 

"You're not walking out of this one,  _girlie_ ", she hissed. "What possessed you to tell Matt about that time at the skate park?! You made me look like a complete bitch in front of him! That's not cool, especially since that's _not_ at all what happened!"

Angelica's gray eyes widened, and to her credit, she looked totally speechless. Like she remembered. 

"Matt?", she asked, shocked. " _That's_ why you're upset?"

Triela nodded her head and gave her a look that said,  _There you go!_

Angelica looked pensive for a moment, recalling what exactly happened last night. "Ohhhh!  _Yeeeeaaaahhh...._ sorry about that, Tree", she said, suddenly turning sheepish. "Didn't mean to make you look like a douchebag in front of that little cutie. You guys came in from 7-Eleven with slurpees and it just reminded me of two weeks ago..."

At this, the blonde didn't bother holding back an irritated groan. 

"...I just tried to make you seem...comical", Angelica continued, turning even more sheepish. "You know, funny! Someone with a good sense of humor! Every guy's gotta love a girl that can make him laugh, right? Ha ha ha..."

But that didn't soften Triela's pointed gaze one bit. 

However, it did kinda knock some sense into her. 

Why'd she have to snap at her friend like that? Matt was gay, sure. There was no chance at them actually being a thing. But her anger had made its appearance, and the words had been said. 

And Angelica...as socially awkward as she may be, what with mentioning rather embarrassing stories and phrasing things incorrectly and everything...in her own way, she was a loyal and supportive friend. She wanted to give her friend the best in life, and help her out anyway she could. She was a kind and understanding girl, and most importantly, she was just fun to be around, no matter how much of a pain in the rear end she could be. That's why they got along so well and stuck around each other.

And that was why Triela was so lucky to have a friend like that.

"Matt's probably snitched to his friends, though", Triela said, tone softening significantly as she sat back down and placed her head in her hands. "That's not exactly going to help my chances at hooking up with someone."

"Don't worry about those wankers, then", Angelica replied, taking a seat next to her friend. "If they think you're just some bully...thanks to me...then that's  _their_ problem. Because that's not who you are. You're the most smart, caring, and talented person out there. Who wouldn't want to be around that?"

That slowly brought a smile to the blonde's face.  _How did I get so lucky?_

The moment of silent realization came to an abrupt end when Angelica, in an African-American accent, bit out jokingly, "Not me! See ya later,  _bitch!_ "

Triela laughed at this and pulled the other girl back by the arm. The two then engaged in banter as they pretended to struggle for...like, forty-five seconds, before retaking their seats at the table.

"Sorry for snapping earlier", Triela said as their giggles started to subside. "I just... _really_ want to find a boyfriend, but nobody that I like is even  _available._ At this rate, I might as well start going for the guys that just play Pokémon or...whatever."

"God, you're  _that_ desperate?", Angelica asked, as her friend threw her a look as if to say,  _Can't you tell?_ "First of all, don't you  _dare_ go thinking in that direction. 'Cause playing those kind of card games are for losers, and you are  _not_ a loser. Second, there's--"

She was cut off by someone screaming "FOOOOOOOD!" at the top of their lungs and running straight for the lunch line.

They stared at the direction they first saw said moron for a moment.

"O...kayyyyy", Triela said awkwardly. She turned to her previously ranting friend. "So...what was it about Fleccia?"

For the rest of the time before school  _actually_ started,  _and_ until they parted ways a few feet away from the 200 hall, Angelica was gushing about this girl she hooked up with, Fleccia--how cute her freckles were, how hot she was, what she was into and what they  _both_ were into, blah blah blah, yada yada yada...Triela was happy for her, but she got her ear talked off more than Hilshire usually gave her; she never thought she'd see the day she  _wanted_ to get her ass to Home Ec. She was never one for outright sappiness.

Angelica came out as bisexual over the summer, and ever since that happened she had been experimenting with girls like crazy. And by like crazy, Triela meant  _like crazy._

Flirting, pickup lines, buying girls gifts from the mall, leaving romantic notes at the door, you name it, Angelica did it. She had caught that kind of interest in two girls over the last 3 months, only to find out they both were straight as a ruler, like Triela herself was. Both times, her friend was crushed, and both times, the blonde threw a pity party for her with Rocky Road ice cream. 

But apparently, last night, after the whole incident with Matt, Angelica got lucky, having hooked up with an equally sporty and spunky lesbian named Fleccia, who she had known for about a year, but hadn't really gotten close with until recently. Of course, Angelica was excited as hell to start a new relationship with this girl, as well as have a relationship with someone of the same sex, considering she "knew exactly how to treat the ladies"...her words, not Triela's. 

_(No shit she knows, she **is** a chick!)_

She just hoped Fleccia would do the same for her friend. Because if she didn't...or if she broke her heart...she'd shove one of her practice staffs so far up her ass she'd be permanently paralyzed.

But. Anyway. That "talk" could wait once she actually met the chick. Right now, she had potatoes to cook and fish to fry. Some fun stuff. Yep.

Just another day in Home Ec...

...but potatoes sounded good, though.

* * *

Little did that girl know, she was his next target.

* * *

Hot damn doc a jam like a summer show she finally got some _goddamn food!!!!_

_Language, Rico, language!..._

On the paper tray Rico Croce was holding, there was applesauce, an egg tortilla, an orange, and some chocolate milk that she just couldn't wait to devour. She was the equivalent of a starved dog at this point!

As soon as she sat down at the nearest table, immediately she dug in ravenously. The Reeses Puffs she had earlier were good, but they weren't enough to satisfy the bottomless pit that was her stomach.

God, the tortilla tasted like mushy cardboard, but inside were the best eggs she'd ever tasted! So she dumped them out onto the tray, not wanting to waste them, tore open the plastic wrap, located the spork, and continued to dig in to her meal. The blonde tomboy was so busy with this that she hardly noticed three boys walk over and sit with her. Well, that was until one of them let out a loud, triumphant whoop that was no doubt heard by everyone in the cafeteria.

Rico jumped a mile and slammed her hand on the table.

"Jesus, Mary, and Tyler Joseph!", she exclaimed angrily. "You scared the crap out of me, man! Almost busted my ears too, are you  _trying_ to make everyone deaf?!"

The three of them glanced at her for a moment before the dumbass in front of her pointed a finger at her and grinned excitedly.

"Yo guys, she just made a twenty øne piløts reference!", he exclaimed.

"No one  _cares,_ faggot", the guy to his right replied. "Did you guys  _see_ Colin get beat up by Coach?!"

"Coach _beat up_ _Colin_?!", the jackass next to her asked incredulously. "What'd he do this time?!"

"Wait...a coach here beat up somebody?", Rico asked with the same tone, forgetting about what happened a few seconds ago. " _Why_?!"

"Ok, so Colin is pissed off because Waylon over here told him off for screwing up our point, right?", the boy in between said, motioning to the guy to his left, whose name was Waylon. "Anyway, he starts cussin' our buddy here out, he even brought Jamika up he wasn't havin' it, dude!"

" _Ooooooh,_ that son of a bitch is so lucky I didn't beat his ass", the boy next to her said. "What a  _pussy!"_

"Anyway, Waylon about to punch the sad sack o' shit in the balls, but Coach breaks it up, and tells Waylon to go change in the locker room, then Colin gets more pissed and starts pushing Coach around and cussin'  _him_ out and shit--"

"Oh my God", the other boys said simultaneously while Rico widened her eyes.

"Then Coach isn't havin' it, and he tries to drag his ass to the office, and then Colin smashes his face and next thing you know, Coach, no joke,  _slams_ his fat ass to the ground and starts punchin' him senseless! And Colin was just screamin' 'Get the F offa me, get the F offa me, niiiiiiiii...."

"Oh my  _GOD_!", Waylon exclaimed, who was in hysterical laughter. 

"Serves his ass right though", the guy next to her chimed in. "I would legit _pay_ _my entire college fund_ to go back in time and see that shit."

"Same, dude!", Waylon replied, giving him a thumbs-up.

"So what happened after?"

"I don't know, man", his friend replied chuckling. "I ran away to the locker room cuz I didn't wanna get my ass beat for recording the entire thing! But I  _do_ know it's on YouTube and it is on  _fire_!"

"DUDE, I gotta see  _that_ shit!", Waylon chortled. "Get your phone and play that shit, mo'fucker!"

"Yeah, man!", his friend beside Rico added excitedly. "Get the phone out, come on, come on, play the video, G!"

"Why are you guys so happy about seeing a fight?", Rico asked sharply. However, half of her betrayed this, as it was somewhat curious. "A teacher beat up a student, what's so cool about that?"

"Oh, no my dear. You're mistaken", Waylon replied. "We're all eager-beaver to see Coach take down a  _prick._ "

"A prick who I'm  _pretty_ sure is gonna get expelled", added his friend next to her.

"I thought you get ISS for fighting someone", said the boy in the middle...G, Rico believed his name was.

"Obviously you don't know Colin's history", his friend replied. "Dude, he's got in trouble in school for fighting people like, multiple times. He even got busted for doin' LSD in his neighborhood, the cops showed up crowdin' around his house and everything. It was nuts!"

"Oh yeah, that's right! You live two houses away from him, don't you?", Waylon asked. His friend nodded with an "Mm-hmm". 

"That kid gets in so much trouble with the law I don't get surprised anymore when a cop car come rollin' by my house. I can't tell y'all how many times a police car drove by my house because of him. Most a' those calls were from my momma, she tol' me, 'I'm finna take the law into my own hands and beat the livin' shit outta that arrogant lil' white boy and give  _his_ momma a piece o' my mind,  _and_ my ass!'"

"You're mom's a _savage_ , dude", Waylon snickered.

"Excuse me!", Rico cut in. "That's still wrong! Teachers can't just beat up students like that!" 

"Um...well, they can", the boy next to her replied.

"They can, but no doubt Coach will get fired for it", G added. 

" _Yeah,_ Lance", Waylon said, mock-snarky.

"Shut the hell up, emo", the boy next to Rico...Lance, responded. "But considering all the stuff Coach Gutierrez has gotten away with for like...two and a half freakin' years, I must say I'm a little surprised."

"Wait...he's done bad stuff longer than this?" Now Rico was genuinely curious about this...Coach Gutierrez.

"Well...not necessarily  _bad_ ", Lance said. "Just...he was a  _tough_ guy."

"Bruh, if you don't think making us run 10 laps around the _entire_ school campus...in the _pouring rain..._ is bad, I think you need to be slapped with a dictionary", remarked Waylon.

Gscoffed. "Oh please, bitch. We've practiced, tackled and scored touchdowns, all that good stuff, in the pouring rain for 8 days tops. You're just mad because the rain washed out your gel on that one day."

"Have you seriously counted how many days it's rained?", Rico asked, more irritated than she intended for it to come out.

"...My father's a meteorologist, so I check to see when it'll rain or not, okay?!"

"Don't forget the two-year-old Doppler radar picture hanging on your wall", Waylon snickered. 

"Shut up!"

"Okay, okay, why don't you both shut up and you play that video for us, G", said Lance, breaking up the impending argument.

"What do you say?"

"Gavin Sanchez I swear to god if you don't play that video Imma steal Maria from under your nose!"

"Maria hates you, dude", G...or Gavin...snickered. "I hate you. You ugly."

"Just play the  _gosh diddly-darn video, douchebag._ "

Gavin pulled out his Samsung Galaxy smartphone and started fiddling with it...obviously trying to find his YouTube video. "Rude", he muttered.

The other three, including Rico herself, crowded around Gavin to watch the video of this Coach Gutierrez beat up this Colin kid. 

And within a few minutes, they were all shouting and laughing and exclaiming remarks at what was being said and done in the video. And Rico had to admit, if she was being honest with herself...that it was entertaining to see some...football coach, from the looks of it...beat some smartass to a pulp on the field. It looked like something she'd do if someone decided to push the wrong buttons.  _Or_ if said person decided to talk smack about Henrietta, or Jean, or anyone else. Like this Colin kid did with bringing up the poor man's lucky lady. The turd  _definitely_ deserved that throw down.

"Oh. my.  _GOD,_ that is so  _awesome!_ ", Waylon exclaimed.

"'See you in juvie, BITCH!'", Lance yelled, mocking what Coach Gutierrez had said earlier. The others laughed.

"...Ok. I have to admit to you guys. He deserved that with the smart mouth he has", said Rico after their laughter subsided. "And really...that was pretty entertaining."

"Hell yeah it was!", Waylon exclaimed.

"Hey shawty", Lance said to her. "What's your name?"

She was not taken aback, she was  _not._ "R-Rico."

"Rico?", Waylon asked. She nodded in confirmation. "As in, Puerto Rico?"

She giggled. "No...just Rico."

"Just Rico?"

"Yes."

"Well, just Rico", Waylon said, making her giggle again. "Nice to meet you. Name's Waylon Dahl."

"Gavin Sanchez. But only my friends call me G", Gavin introduced himself. "And you ain't my friend."

Lance laughed. "Rude, G", he remarked. "Lance Griffin. What's up?"

"Um...the ceiling?"

"Ha. Smartass."

Just then, the bell rang, signaling that it was time to exit the cafeteria and get to class. A large crowd of students started walking up the ramp up to the hallway to their designated classrooms.

"Well, see ya, lame-o's! Gotta bounce!", Lance said, and dashed off. Gavin waved bye to his Waylon and her, saying to her, "It was nice meeting you, Rico."

"Bye...", she waved back as the green-shirted boy dashed off after Lance.

Waylon shrugged at her. "Shall we?"

He was suggesting they walk together.

"S-Sure", she stuttered.

They walked out of the cafeteria as she stuffed the last of the eggs on the tray into her mouth and promptly dumping it in the nearest trashcan.

As they walked together talking in the crowded hallway, Waylon's red Beats speaker blasting some rap song she didn't recognize, Rico couldn't help but to think school was about to get a whole lot more interesting and exciting than she expected.  


	3. you show the lights that stop me

Once the bell rang signaling the start of her first day at Woodland Heights, Henrietta shuffled nervously in her seat when she heard loud voices from the hallway.

"What the FUCK bro?! You can't sexually identify as a _grapefruit_!", the brunette heard a male voice shout as a kid in a red collar shirt and loose shorts waltzed into the classroom, only to quickly turn around towards the hall and shout back, "Bro it's _2017_ , don't discriminate!"

_...what?_

"And now the wonderful silence is broken", she heard Claes mutter next to her. The newer girl had to agree, but not in the way her new friend thought.

Henrietta was never really the social type, preferring to stay out of the spotlight of friendly conversation. The mere thought of talking to other students, especially new people in a new town, gave her the creeps. Her cheeks and ears would always burn scarlet, and she'd always stumble on her words. Small talk became harder than it seemed.

So she thought it better to stay as a wallflower.

She was always talking with Rico, however. The two of them were practically _inseperable._ Like two peas in a pod. A team...as Rico put it. They did everything together—stargazing, building sandcastles on the beach, hide-and-seek...everything two girl best friends did. With Rico around, socializing and having fun with others became so much  _easier._

Rico was...different. She was easy to approach. Her disposition was...friendly. Just right. It was able to reach even the most shut-out soul and make them feel welcome, make them feel they were worth something.  Rico was always the more social one, always starting up conversations with her other friends about anything and everything that came to mind.

And with some motivation and advice from her blonde cousin, Henrietta was able to become friendly and social with some of Rico's friends. The anxiety was somewhat chased away, all thanks to her blonde cousin. That motivation, of knowing what to say and when to say it, is what got her to make friends with Claes, the girl next to her.

Sure, Jose, her guardian, had a hand in that, but she had to admit, it was mainly Rico herself that got her a step higher.

She really wished the blonde was with her here now. Right now, Henrietta was feeling the crushing pressure that she had to say something to the bespectacled girl next to her, as the other students attending the class were filing in, some of them simply taking their seats and putting their heads down on their desk, some talking in various distances, and a rather rambunctious group standing around, laughing and talking rather loudly and excitedly.

Her interest became rather piqued at that group of students, wishing she some way, somehow, had the ability to have that kind of energy, that kind of confidence, especially at this early of an hour. 

"Nononono _no!_ ", one girl was shouting. "That's—that's not what I meant, that's not what I meant..."

Their conversation continued as a boy with black hair that nearly covered both of his eyes (Henrietta wondered vaguely how he was able to even see where he was going), walking hand in hand with a redheaded girl with sunglasses, loud music blaring in the room as they walked in and took their seats, all the while singing...or...speaking...? the lyrics to...whatever it is that they were playing...? 

She wondered if it was one of those fancy speaker-things that she'd seen in the grocery store that was producing the music. But she didn't see one on either of them...so where was it coming from?  

It appeared the two of them very well knew the next song that started blasting through the room, as the couple started dancing and belting out the lyrics to it. A short moment later,  the group a few feet away from them forgot their conversation entirely in favor of singing along as well.

Claes was completely oblivious to the rising excitement in the room, reading a book she'd pulled out of her backpack some time ago, while Henrietta was completely enthralled at the scene in front of her. 

Wow. Just. Wow.

The tardy bell rang, but that didn't seem to be of concern to her singing and dancing peers, as the music still played and they still danced and sang along happily. Some other kids around her joined them, nodding their heads to the beat, smiling and trying to sing along. 

The black-haired boy stopped mid-dance in shock, looking towards the door. Henrietta turned to look in that direction to find a young woman, in her early 30s maybe, average height, skinny, and fiery red hair wearing all orange, standing at the door with her hands at her hips.  

 _That must be the Health Science teacher_ , Henrietta thought.

"I leave my room for a half hour and I suddenly come back to this", the woman said, annoyance apparent as she walked towards her desk at the far right corner of the room. 

"But Miss Tyler!", the boy's girlfriend cried. (...was she _Russian?_ ) "I thought you _liked_ this kind of music!"

"I do", the teacher clarified. "It's just I'm agitated that you guys have the nerve to play 'Without Me'... _without_ me."

The couple laughed at what was... probably a pun? 

"Next time I'll make sure Jones does just that for you", a smiling brunette girl replied. "Heck, how 'bout we do that every time you walk into the classroom?" 

"I'll have to think about that one Macy", Miss Tyler replied with a smile. "But if for some reason I give the 'OK' on that, you'll have to make sure that song's censored." She turned to Black Hair, and narrowed her eyes. "You _were_ playing the censored version of that song, weren't you?"

Silence and guilty looks with accompanying shrugs from the couple was the only response. 

Miss Tyler sighed. "Turn your speaker off, Waylon." 

The boy...Waylon...complied, pulling out a cylindrical red speaker from his backpack pocket, and pressing a button in the center of it, effectively shutting off the music that was playing. His girlfriend kissed his cheek and patted his mop of hair affectionately with a sweet smile as he put the speaker back in, bashfully smiling back at her. 

"Okay everybody get in your seats and be quiet while I take attendance", Miss Tyler instructed the class. 

The students did as they were told, although there was still some chit-chat going on, but Miss Tyler didn't seem to mind as she pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen. 

"Alright...Trisha?"

"Here."

"Miles?"

"Here."

"Petra?"

"Here!", the redhead behind Henrietta replied, raising her hand up in the air for emphasis of her presence. 

"Henrietta—wait, _what?_ " The teacher narrowed her eyes at the paper in front of her, confused. She then brought the clipboard it was laying on up closer to her face, as if she couldn't understand why Henrietta's name was apparently on the attendance sheet. 

All the while, Henrietta's nerves were going _crazy_. She could feel her ears burning, butterflies flapping around in her tummy incessantly. She could feel eyes on her, boring holes everywhere on her, like those blaster bolts from one of those space movies she and Rico watched.  

She was getting a bright light shown directly on her, and she didn't like it one bit. 

"Um, Miss Tyler?", she heard Claes say to the teacher, effectively making sweat due at her temples. "That's the new student in this class you're talking about."

Miss Tyler's face lit up with realization. " _Oh,_ that's right! I got this new schedule two days ago because the office said I was getting a new student in this class. Is she here?"

"Yeah, she's right next to me", Claes gestured to her, practically _handing_  Henrietta a case of the shakes.

Miss Tyler's gaze turned to Henrietta and she smiled at the nervous girl. "Hi!", she greeted. "Henrietta, right?"

"Y-yeah...", she stuttered out, not quite meeting the woman's eyes.

"Well, _hi_ Henrietta", the teacher greeted her again. "My name is Miss Tyler, I'm the Health Science teacher here at Woodland Heights." She snorted at herself and said, "Obviously...well, um...first off, how do you pronounce your last name, sweetie?"

"C...Crow-ché. Crow-ché", Henrietta answered her, making sure to make her voice able to be heard.

"Okay", Miss Tyler said, still smiling. "Can you tell the rest of the class a little bit about yourself, like where you're from, what you like to do, if you have any pets...that kinda thing...?"

Henrietta's eyes darted around the room, feeling more nervous than ever. That imaginary light above her head was practically cooking her alive. The eyes of her peers on her didn't help quell her unease, either. 

The sweat that had formed on her face had started falling down her face in uncomfortable streams of salt and water. The shakes got stronger, as she became unable to control her anxiety of speaking in front of...well, _everyone_ , including the teacher, in a _new_ classroom, in a _new_ hall, in an entirely _new_ school in an entirely _new_ town in an entirely _new_ state.

"Henrietta...", she managed to hear Claes say amidst her crazed nervousness. She then felt her new friend nudge her shoulder. "Hey..."

A knock at the door shocked a gasp out of the poor girl, and out of pure instinct she squinted her eyes tightly shut and made a pillow out of her arms as she hid her face under them in some sense of darkness, as if that would shield against that blasted light and the eyes of every one of her peers burning painful holes on her. The shakes became harder and breathing became harder to catch. 

"Could someone get that, please?", the panicked girl heard the teacher call to the rest of the class as her breathing quickened its pace. Henrietta could feel Miss Tyler's presence across from her as she heard the door open, allowing...whoever was there to enter the room.

Before Miss Tyler could say anything to her that could be described as "calming", the sound of someone...a girl...dashing towards the teacher while singing something rather upbeat in an excited manner made its way to her. 

"Just put that on my desk, thank you", Miss Tyler said to the room's guest. Then, turning her attention to her, said in a soothing voice, "Henrietta...sweetie, can you look at me...?" 

The brunette shook her head quickly, feebly trying to pretend her eyes weren't burning with unshed tears. 

"Oh, is it first-day jitters?", she heard the visiting girl ask.

A possible nod of the head was the curious girl's response.  _Oh God..._

"Awww...well, how about I introduce myself to your class to show you it's not so bad?", the girl suggested. 

"That's really nice of you young lady but—", Miss Tyler started to say. 

"My name's Angelica, and I'm actually new to this school, too", the girl...Angelica...continued anyway.  

 _That_ got Henrietta's attention. 

The brunette's head jolted upwards in surprise. The motion seemed to catch the black-haired girl's attention, as her really perky smile widened a little more. 

"Yeah! We're both newbies here!", she said to her. "Although, I just transferred from Cedar Canyon...which I'm really happy for, cuz _lemme_ tell ya...that school's got some _serious_ stuff to fix. As another plus, I'm going to the same school as my best friend Triela and a lot of my other friends, plus...my new girlfriend goes here too and omigod she's so cool and pretty we got a date this Thursday at the theater and I'm so _excited_!!"

"That's...that's great, Angelica", Miss Tyler replied just as soon as the girl started squealing. "But you should probably get back to class...er, the office, now. Ms. Franz isn't the most...ahem... _patient_ person to keep waiting."

The girl nodded, her expression one of unpleasant understanding. She saluted to Miss Tyler halfheartedly and told her, "Thank you for your time." She then turned to Henrietta and bid her a nice first day as she turned to the door.  

"POWER TO GOD AND ANIME!", Angelica shouted, and performed a cartwheel. 

However, she landed wrong. 

In fact, she landed front-first, flat on her stomach.  

A split-second later, the room was filled with explosive laughter as Miss Tyler ran over to the downed girl, helping her up and asking if she was okay, despite herself falling guilty to uncontrollable laughter. 

Claes herself was snickering at what had just occurred, but like a few other students called to Angelica, asking if she was okay. 

Henrietta didn't know how to feel about it. On one hand, someone had fallen onto hard tile floor, and most likely hurt themselves, which was rather rude; if she was at home and did something similar, Jose would run over to her worriedly without so much as a chuckle. The same would go for Rico, if she saw her cousin fall. 

She wanted to give them all a piece of her mind, to knock some sense into her peers and her own teacher, who was supposed to act as the adult here. 

Then again...she knew better than speaking out like that against a teacher. She'd never forget the chewing out she got from Mr. Day, one of her favorite teachers in Centryway Middle, when she tried to defend a fellow classmate. The dirty looks from a few of the others in that classroom were burned into her memory as well. 

That day, she'd learned that holding her tongue was a really important social skill to have.  In order to keep the people around her happy, and in order to prevent a situation from getting out of hand...and in order to protect herself from the harsh criticism and wrath of others, holding one's tongue was key.

So, for those reasons...she chose to let the other students, to let Claes, have their laughs. She chose to let the teacher deal with the situation; she knew what to do, especially her being the Health Science teacher. 

Angelica soon dashed out of the room and back to the office; Henrietta didn't get a good look at her face, but her body language did give off a vibe of embarrassment, sending waves of guilt down her stomach. 

As soon as the door closed, Miss Tyler had gained some semblance of self-control, though she was still smiling a little too widely for her liking.

"Okay guys, get up and get your textbooks and turn to chapter 4", she instructed casually, as if a student hadn't landed roughly on the hard, tiled floor at all, and completely brushing Henrietta's recent nervous breakdown over an introduction under the metaphorical mat. "I'll get attendance down once you've done so."

If there was one thing that a selfish and downright mean part of Henrietta Croce was grateful for, it was that Angelica had, inadvertently, taken everyone's attention off of her. She could no longer feel any dreadful anxiety, nor the heat of that burning spotlight or the stares of her peers. 

That part of her almost wanted to thank Angelica for saving her a whole lot of breath the second they saw each other again. 

Almost...

She'd just have to muster the strength to search for the gregarious teen and to _speak_ to her first. And she wasn't so sure either were in her capability.

* * *

"AHHH...hahahahaha.... _ohhhh_ myyyy god!!"

 _At this point, why am I even surprised?_ , Angelica thought to herself bitterly. 

 _Apparently_ , an absolute _smartass_  by the name of Caleb Tucker had not only recorded her little stunt in Miss Tyler's classroom, but also put it on _Snapchat_ for all the school's students, and the entire world to see. 

And Triela, the cheeky little bitch, saw it, being as addicted to the app as herself, and...

...yeah. 

"Y-you...what the _hell_?!", Triela gasped between fits of laughter, not caring in the slightest that others were staring. "I can't...I can't _even_...!"

" _Okay_ , Triela, I _get it_ ", grumbled Angelica. "Heck, everyone in this _entire_ classroom gets it! It was funny, it was hilarious, now it's annoying as hell now _SHUT UP_!!" 

That did absolutely _fuck_ to stop her blonde BFF from laughing. In fact, it only made her laugh even harder as the tardy bell started ringing and others were staring at her now and making comments. 

"I-I'm sorry, Angie", Triela apologized to her now red-faced friend once she gained some sense of stability. "I-It's just...what you did back there...I don't even know what the _hell_  that _was!_ Did you forget to take your Flinstone vitamins today or something?!" The blonde then collapsed back into her hysterics.  

The raven-haired teen could just _feel_ the steam blowing out of her ears. 

"First of all, _no_ ", Angelica stated, putting on the same frightening calm façade she'd witnessed Marco put on with his friends when he got irritated with them. "And second of all, I pulled something stupid, yeah, but in my defense I was trying to make a new student feel welcome." 

"By declaring power to God and anime?", asked Triela cheekily. 

Angelica pinched the bridge of her nose, and resisted the urge to violently throttle her filterless best friend. 

"...yes", she sighed.

"Oh come on, Angie", Triela said to her flustered friend. "It's not even that bad. I was just kidding around is all. You remember all those times I made a fool of myself in a public place? Like that time at the skate park over the summer? Or the time I broke the blender at Tropical Smoothie Cafe four years ago?"

Angelica slowly turned her gaze to her friend, raising an eyebrow. 

"Y-You know...when smoothie went everywhere and in one of the worker's eyes, and she screamed so loud your ears literally started bleeding...?" 

"...Triela?"

"Yeah?" 

"It was _Claes_ who broke that blender."

"...oh yeah", her friend realized with a sheepish chuckle. "But you know what I mean. Nothing's broken, right? We all have those moments of embarrassment that we're gonna cringe over later. And I'm sure everyone in that class is gonna forget about what you did eventually...but if this Fleccia you're with has the _nerve_ to—"

"Hey, hey! One moment you're making fun of me, and the next one you're swearing vengeance on my girlfriend when she does something small?", Angelica chuckled. "Protective, much?"

"Arrgh, I just don't want her to hurt you like Miles did. I don't ever want to see you in that dark place again." 

"I know you care about me, Triela. And I'm grateful for that."  

"I don't just care about you, you big goof", corrected Triela. "I _love_ you. You're my _best friend._ "  

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that", Angelica quipped, earning a snort from her blonde friend. " _Anyway_...Fleccia _won't_ hurt me. And I won't hurt her. I truly believe I can make us work without any major problems. Sure, we'll have some bumps along the road, but what couple doesn't? Everyone has their ups and downs, right?" 

Suddenly she gasped, remembering something. 

"Hey, did you hear that a football coach beat up one of his players?"

Triela was next to gasp. " _Really?!_ Which one?"

"Gutierrez beat up Colin Winfried."

"...can't say I'm surprised. Colin's always been kind of a jackass. And with Gutierrez being...you know, _Gutierrez..."_

The door slammed shut as Mr. Dornez walked in, eyes scanning the room and its occupants as shrewdly as ever, looking for something off and someone to chew out for it.  

(Otherwise called, "The Prowl".)

The middle-aged prick's eyes set on a kid in the front of the room.

"Harris", Mr. Dornez said to the kid, stoic. "Hand over your phone."

"Why?", _Sergio_ Harris asked. Their chemistry teacher always addressed his students by their last names.  

Mr. Dornez simply pointed to the white board, where a sign, hung up by magnets, read in big red letters: "Absolutely NO CELL PHONE USE is allowed in this classroom! If ANY cell phone use is seen, you will be asked to hand over your phone, and may have to pay a fee." 

"Hand. Over. Your cell phone", Mr. Dornez hissed lowly at the poor kid. " _Now._ "

Angelica was praying with all her might that things wouldn't escalate with this kid. If some kid got lippy about something, it was truly cringe-worthy; she'd get yet another round of goosebumps and chills touching her fair skin, even with the light tan jacket she was wearing under her purple shoulderless top. Heck, she even got goosebumps every time her chemistry teacher even sounded _remotely_ intimidating. Which was like, every school day. He always seemed pissed off at everything and everyone, and Angelica didn't know why. No one did.

Needless to say, Mr. Dornez was not her favorite teacher. And she wasn't alone in that thinking. 

Which sucked, because she happened to really _like_ chemistry in general. 

Sergio handed over his phone without a moment's hesitation, and she audibly breathed a sigh of relief.  

"Today, you will be taking a pop quiz on what you have learned about covalent bonding", Mr. Dornez instructed in his usual monotone voice, Sergio's phone in hand. "It is 10 questions long, and we will go over it 15 minutes after it's been handed out. If you make an 80 or above, you don't have to do corrections."

Triela put her cell phone into her pocket when the papers started getting passed out, and Angelica started fiddling with her mechanical pencil. Covalent bonds were rather easy to figure out, so she'd most likely be one of the first ones done. That was always fun...until it got boring. 

When two papers reached her desk, the raven-haired girl passed one back to the student behind her, and wrote her name on the other one and got to work along with the others in the room. 

She was on question #3 in a matter of seconds when she heard a knock on the door. But she didn't think much of it and continued working. Office assistants like herself and various teachers stopped by random classrooms all the time. 

 _Now, **what's** a complex ion again? _  

"Hey! HEY!", she heard Mr. Dornez shout out, effectively capturing the attention of everyone in his class. 

A boy, tall, blonde, lanky, and neither an office assistant _or_ teacher, was charging into the room, and he looked clearly pissed off about something. 

The kid moved in on one student, whose name Angelica believed was TJ, the movement very menacing, intimidating, _craving_  fear.

"Hey man—", she heard TJ start, only to be answered with a hard fist to his face.  

Students around her started shouting out in a range of emotions—worry, anger, fright—confusion as to what exactly was going on. Mr. Dornez rushed in and tried to pry TJ's attacker off of him—and maybe literally knock sone sense upside his head—only to be kicked somewhere in his lower half from the looks of it; he was yelling in pain for a little while.  

Angelica gasped; this boy was _vicious_. He was _crazy_ , attacking a teacher like he did. Even more so for attacking a student in such a way. Even practice rounds in taekwondo weren't this intense to bear witness to. And that was saying something. Some of the little tots in her class could turn into the human embodiment of Satan if provoked. 

She wondered what exactly TJ could've possibly done to piss that guy off like so. Granted, TJ was kind of a jerkass who got on pretty much everyone's nerves, even getting ISS one time for classroom disruption, which, to Angelica, wasn't too serious (that didn't mean she didn't enjoy three days of no mild headaches), but still. This beatdown the poor kid was getting was crossing a line. Even though she herself frequently felt the urge to smack TJ upside the head (who didn't?), it didn't make it okay. 

Triela looked pretty close to introducing the enraged kid to her own pair of fists. She had a brown belt in taekwondo; that alone was proof she could take him out. Angelica could too; she had a green belt, which was alright, and _could_ overall knock out that punk.  

But the reason they just stood there watching was because some boys around the scene seemed to be taking care of it, albeit rather poorly, jumping on him like rabid dogs and punching and kicking him to stop him, while their target yelled racist slurs and more nasty things at them.  

But seriously, _Jesus Christ_ , that blonde guy was like a lean, mean, fighting _machine_. Against five or six guys close to pinning him to the cold tile floor, it was like he was fighting for his life, he didn't know when to _quit_. 

Mr. Dornez was yelling for someone to go to the office and get the nurse and Officer Dixon; one of the security officers at the school, Triela had informed her. A few teachers and students from other classrooms, who heard the commotion in the room, starting coming in trying to find out what the hell was going on, some getting dangerously close to the kid, who was pinned down to the floor and not really going anywhere anyway, even though Angelica had a gut feeling he could find a way to break free from their hold and permanently damage all their faces.  

"Who the hell _is_ this guy?!", cried Triela over the growing commotion. "And who does he think he is, _Bruce Lee?!_ "

A girl directly in front of them, who had been sitting in her desk the entire time, heard her friend's question, turning to face them with the iciest blue eyes Angelica had ever seen. They had kind of a gothic look to them, and the white eyeshadow over them seemed to compliment that. That pair of eyes seemed to lock onto the girls like targets and perform careful anaylsis on  them in a far from comfortable way. Those eyes had Angelica transfixed, petrified like a marble statue. It was almost as if the girl had something supernatural about her, those eyes practically capable of demanding and gaining whatever they desired without words being a requirement. 

The stare was _that_ intense. Or maybe it was just the eye color. 

Whatever it was, it was _intense._  

 _Wow. Creepy. Note to self, don't ever get on this girl's bad side, trying or not._  

"That's Pinocchio Savonarola", the girl replied, nodding her head to the downed blonde kid, who was awaiting Officer Dixon to take him up in handcuffs. 

" _...Pinocchio?_ ", Angelica asked. She wasn't one to judge, but why name a kid after a children's book character who gets an elongated nose every time he lied? 

The girl nodded, brushing a silver strand of hair out of her view.

"He's a senior here at Woodland Heights", she resumed, her sight on an entering Nurse Kime and Officer Dixon, who had a pair of handcuffs in hand. "Guy's got the reputation of your everyday drugee, snorting and smoking whatever can get his already doped-up self high. If I had a dollar for every time I've walked past him smoking a pack of cigarettes, I'd be able to buy all the sex toys there are at Spencer's."

...well...that confirmed the gothic theory. 

"Stay down. Put his hands behind his back, guys", Officer Dixon was saying as Nurse Kime and Mrs. Addison, the Physics teacher, escorted a bloodied and bruised TJ out of the room...probably to the clinic. The sound of handcuffs clasping around wrists penetrated her ears, as a slightly less beaten Pinocchio was helped up and escorted out to who knew where. 

"Oh, _and_ he's got _quite_ the temper", the girl in front of them added.  

"I'll say", Triela muttered with a wince. 

"TJ Banks isn't the first person to feel the wrath of Pinocchio", the girl continued, matter-of-fact. "There's been quite a few people who've pressed the right buttons, and girls who've lit the right fuses. For example, a friend of mine, Emma, started up an innocent conversation with a little girl he liked named Aurora, and Emma ended up with a box-cutter knife to her head. And Aurora had borne witness to the entire thing." 

"Oh my god", Angelica breathed. 

"Well I sure hope that girl is staying as far away from him as humanly possible", remarked Triela. "What kind of little girl would want to be friends with a psycho like that?"

"People have their reasons for befriending others", the girl said. "Maybe he seemed like a decent enough guy to her. I wouldn't be surprised if 'manipulative' is part of his persona. Kids are easy targets to people like that. They're impressionable, easy to keep secrets from. Especially secrets such as your true nature." 

"...that's sadly true", murmured Angelica. And it was. 

"Hey, I got a question", Triela said to the silver-haired girl in front of them. 

The girl nodded. "Shoot."

"How do you know so much about this...Pinocchio? Did you guys used to be friends or something?"

"I think that was _two_ questions you asked", the girl replied, neutral. "No, we weren't ever friends, nor will we ever be. I just happen to have my ways of getting information." 

Before Angelica could ask what the hell _that_ meant, Mr. Dornez was telling everyone to get back into their seats.

"...well. Nice. Thanks for the talk", Triela said, waving a hand at the girl and winking. 

"Sure."

Angelica did the same, and slowly headed back to her thankfully untouched desk. 

 _God._ _**Damn**_ , she thought, amazed. _What a **great** first day **this** is._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Henrietta...social anxiety is such a female dog, I swear. :/ (Although mine's not as bad as her's is. Still, F you, anxiety!) Angelica, good-hearted as always...the two of them will start being friends VERY soon, I assure you. ;) 
> 
> (Triela is SO me as a friend, who can relate?) 
> 
> Also...Pino literally charging in and MAKING his MARK...! I don't know how he and Triela will OFFICIALLY meet each other yet...maybe I'll trap them both in a closed Walmart or something later on LOL but they'll get together...soon. 
> 
> Yes, Waylon and Petra cameo. They'll be involved later on, too, but they'll only be side characters, really. 
> 
> (Also, yes, the girl telling Ange and Tree about Pino IS in fact Pia, for you curious Georges. :))
> 
> See you next time! :D


	4. i took too many hits off this memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEVERAL head-nods were made towards a Wattpad writer by the name of joshie-joseph because I'm an unoriginal fuck.
> 
> If you would be so kind to check out what stories she has, it'd definitely make my Grinch-sized heart bigger. :)
> 
> Also a couple head-nods were made towards Nachtsider, a writer on FF.net, check em out too plz...

Beatrice Esposito walked into the school library, a book on the basics of botany in hand, ready to check back in. She had taken several notes off of what was written in its pages to remember how to take care of the garden she was planning to grow. 

It was her friend Claes who had given her the idea firsthand, as the bespectacled sophomore was actually growing a few tomato plants in her backyard, as well as a few other floral delicacies to gaze upon. The brunette had actually laid eyes upon this garden herself—several times in fact, as she often visited her house, and just as frequently paid visits to this garden that she helped take care of when she could. 

She knew  _some_ things about botany and its basics, doing this procedure with her good friend. The additional help in biology class helped expand her knowledge as well. But she figured that it was time she expanded her knowledge in the subject of botany on her own. Not that she didn't enjoy the advice and instruction she got from those around her; wisdom came from the expertise of others, after all. She just figured individual research she got from reading books on the subject would do more good than just hearing one speak through the mouth, and through text on a few hundred pieces of paper in a hard cover or paperback cover. 

She had heard writing was sometimes proven better and more vocal than oral communication from her bespectacled friend. Beatrice guessed she also wanted to see if that was true. The brunette didn't doubt Claes's intelligence or anything...her friend was currently making straight A's...it was just the mere thought of that was somewhat intriguing to her.

"How can I help you, miss?", Mrs. D'Angelo, the librarian, pleasantly asked Beatrice as the girl approached the check-out desk. 

"I need to check in this book, please", the girl answered, handing the book to the elderly woman. 

"Alright", replied the woman, taking the book in hand. "ID, please?" 

"214089."

The woman then typed Beatrice's numbered ID into her computer, and then put the book through the scanner, which then beeped in recognition. 

"Thank you, young lady", the librarian said politely. 

"One more thing", recalled the young freshman. "I was wondering, Mrs. D'Angelo...do you recommend any books on types of plants?" 

Mrs. D'Angelo appeared to take this into thoughtful consideration for a moment. 

"...well...", she said, trying to come up with an answer. Then, something appeared to click in her mind, as she moved her wheelchair back and away from the desk. 

"As a matter of fact, I _do_ ", she recounted. She then gestured towards Beatrice.

"Come with me. I believe they're somewhere in the back, if my memory serves me right." 

The brunette followed Mrs. D'Angelo through the many shelves of books of various genres, the mere sight of it all simply... _captivating..._ in her eyes. Books on various topics...fiction or non-fiction, occupying labeled wooden shelves, just waiting to be opened, and read and appreciated, while giving one information that might be useful for their nearing future, or filling and nurturing one's imaginations with spectacular imagery...or, in some cases, both...it was somewhat humbling to be walking amongst books, which had so much power on the human brain. 

It was such a shame that the other students attending this school didn't take the time to stop and think about taking reading as a hobby. Beatrice wondered how people her age found a cell phone or other electronic devices, such as an XBox gaming system, which her uncle Bernardo owned, much more interesting to them. 

(Although she did own a cell phone herself, which she used to listen to music, she didn't have a need to glue her blue eyes to it, checking social media or watching the latest videos on it or whatnot.)

She figured she'd have to ask Claes about that when she saw her in World History. Her friend was smart; it was like she had the answers to everything.

"I believe they're over here somewhere...", Mrs. D'Angelo was saying, mostly to herself, as they reached a shelf towards the back of the room. "Ah, here's one of them." She then reached to a third shelf on a bookshelf labeled, "Nature" with big bold letters on a taped-on paper yellow sign on its side, and pulled out a golden yellow book with a jade green spine. 

"Medical Botany: Plants Affecting Human Health", the elderly librarian read the book's title. "This one focuses more on pharmeceuticals, but it tells you all about herbs and plants used as medicines, and talks about plants that have harmed the human condition. It gives you a really good bit of information on the subject, especially if you plan on becoming a doctor or a chemist sometime in the near future."

The woman then rolled over further down the shelf, book in hand, and stopped towards the end, most likely knowing the next book was around that area. 

"I think the next one's out of my reach...", Mrs. D'Angelo admitted with an embarrassed chuckle. "...the next book I want to show you is called Plant Families. It's somewhere around here..." She waved her hand around the last two stacks of books. 

"Fourth shelf, that I'm sure of. Could you look for it for me, young lady?"

Beatrice complied, scooting over past the librarian and her wheelchair, and searched both fourth shelves with keen eyes, rather quickly finding said book by examination of the books's spines.

"Is _this_ it?", the brunette asked, pulling out a cream-colored paperback. 

Mrs. D'Angelo turned her head to the girl's direction as the latter showed her the book in her hands. 

"Yes, that's the one, thank you", the librarian replied kindly, taking the book from Beatrice's hands. "This one's about all kinds of plants, and the categories they're all placed in. It even tells you all about their histories and geneology, it's rather intriguing. So much so that it's become one of my favorites in this section. It's something I'd highly recommend, especially for your interests." 

"Have you taken an interest in gardening, Mrs. D'Angelo?", Beatrice asked.

"I've grown a few gardens when I was younger", was the thoughtful answer. "But they mostly consisted of flowers like marigolds and roses...nothing like tomato plants or apple trees...", she chuckled, "Nothing out of the ordinary. But I was always more into architecture, like my husband was. I always loved seeing people  _building_ and  _creating_ things. And what about you, dear?" 

"I want to grow a garden", Beatrice replied. "My friend, Claes, is growing one of her own, and I thought one of my own would be... _fascinating._ "

"Oh, I see", the elderly librarian replied, interest piqued. "And I assume you're wanting to get an idea on what type of plants you're wanting to grow, yes?"

"That, and I want to do more research on different types of plants. We're learning about plant life in Biology class, and we've been talking a lot about all the categories they're put into...I decided I should do more research on the topic by myself."

"Yes, that's very wise of you, young lady", the librarian said with a smile. "Now, do you want to check these two out, or do you want to keep looking?" 

"I think those two would be a good start to my research", answered Beatrice, stoic as ever. 

Mrs. D'Angelo nodded in understanding. "Alright, then. Let's get back to the check-out desk, shall we?" 

The woman gave Beatrice the books and they headed back towards the check-out desk. 

"Mrs. D'Angelo?", the studious brunette inquired, remembering the woman's mention of her work in architecture. 

"Yes?"

"You said you were more into architecture, earlier", Beatrice commented as they reached the check-out desk. "What kind of things did your husband build that you liked?"

"Well...", Mrs. D'Angelo began as she reclaimed her seat behind the check-out desk. "Nothing major, really...most of the time it was road reconstruction that he did. He rarely ever got to help build a building downtown or outside of town. But driving by road reconstruction was, to me,  _fascinating_ to bear witness to. Being late to work was always the least of my worries when I saw it, and when I did, I wondered if my husband was there working on it, first of all, heh, so I could drive by and say hello to him. And second, I wondered what it would be like to actually partake in that kind of work. What it would be like to work up close to those work signs and orange and white-colored cones...and help reconstruct a new area of road that'd look better to drive on, or even a safer one to drive on." 

Her tone turned a little sad. "But, in my time, women doing road work wasn't very encouraged. On an optimistic note, though, being a high school librarian is quite fun—working with so many nice people for a long number of many years...and helping out kids like you get what you want to read."

"It's sad kids like me in this day and age aren't as interested in reading anymore", Beatrice said softly, remembering her earlier conversation with Claes on the subject.

"It is, isn't it?", Mrs. D'Angelo added sympathetically, as Beatrice handed her the books she wanted to read. She then went to the computer as Beatrice gave her her ID number once more.

The librarian ran the books through the electronic scanner, and placed a due date tag on each of the books, and wrote the dates down on them with a black pen. Then she kindly handed them back to the brunette. 

"Have a nice day, Beatrice", Mrs. D'Angelo said. "Enjoy those books. And be sure to give me a photo of that garden of yours when you've got it growing, I'd love to see it."

"Thank you, Mrs. D'Angelo", Beatrice replied briskly, with the smallest of smiles on her normally impassive face. "I'll be sure to do just that." The brunette then walked out of the library, books clutched to her chest, and to the cafeteria to give herself some energy to begin her research later in the day, and energy for her brain for the rest of the school day.

* * *

"For the love of God Angelica, would you  _quit sending me these stupid Kermit memes!_ ", Triela exclaimed as the first bell signaling the start to get to 6th period rang. Her tone was nothing short of exasperated, but her face held the most dumbstruck grin. 

Angelica, who was seated two rows to Triela's right and towards the back of the room, just giggled stupidly, wearing an equally stupid grin. " _Noooooooo_ ", she replied, mock-evilly as she continued either typing or uploading yet another picture of Kermit the Frog drinking tea.

The two of them were currently in a groupchat on Kik, among other things, and had been for the majority of lunch with a few of their other friends. And Triela guessed it was safe to say that the conversations on the messaging app had gone from 0 to 100 in a matter of minutes, dispersing in what could only be described as completely random, crazy, wierd, crazy, nuts, and did she mention _crazy?_

_**Gatto_NERO-trippi** : bruh. Kermit either gonna hit the booty, or puke a river tonight_

_**S1LVERSH1NE101** _ _: i leave my phone off for literally two minutes and i come back to see it's being blown up by Angelica trying to revive another dank meme lol_

_**chiangchiang** : you guys can you shut the fuck up now Ty-Ty's giving me the answers to my geometry homework and i don't need my phone blowing up like somebody's pants after eating Chipotle._

_**Gatto_NERO-trippi** : then turn your phone off bruh_

_**DangerousKurves88** : Awwwww...young love...(blegh)_

_**P!nk_Unicorn12** : our little chiara is growing up so fast! *wipes eye* i cant even! *sobbing in happiness*_

_**S1LVERSH1NE101** : *sighs in Chinese*_

_**DangerousKurves88** : ...wait, what? _

_**Gatto_NERO-trippi** : you can speak chinese?_

_**S1LVERSH1NE101** _ _: No. But I can sigh in it._

Gattonero Tibaldi, a freshman, and a good friend of Triela and Angelica's under the username Gatto_NERO-trippi, then posted a meme of a giant man overlooking a city with binoculars, with the words 'Looking for how that makes sense' in bold white letters at the top and bottom of the image. Not even a minute later, Silvia Salamone, a fellow sophomore who was usually very sweet, under the username S1LVERSH1NE101, posted the same image, but with the words 'Looking for where I asked for your opinion' on the top and bottom of the image instead. 

Normally, Triela was used to snark being thrown around her and her friends; she was pretty snarky in personality herself. And normally, she didn't keep memes stalled in her photo gallery. But Silvia normally never said something sassy, even if what she 'said' was not the most sarcastic thing one could say. 

It still felt like a big deal.

And the pigtailed blonde had the distinct feeling that a simple 'ooooooh' was too overused, so she ended up uploading the meme of a bunch of people going 'oooooohhhh' that she'd seen on YouTube a couple of times to the groupchat.

_**DangerousKurves88** : someone's rather salty today! XD_

_**Gatto_NERO-trippi** : just like Ty-Ty's dick, eh, Chiara?_

_**chiangchiang** : SHUT THE FUCK UP GATTONERO HE'S LITERALLY FUCKING NEXT TO ME _

_**DangerousKurves88** : FUCKING WHO?!?!_

_**Gatto_NERO-trippi** : breaker breaker we got a code fuckboy in our midst and he is #thirsti_

_**P!nk_Unicorn12** : i KNEW HE WAS GONNA DO THE SUCC ON SONI'S BABY FEEDERS EVENTUALLY_

_**S1LVERSH1NE101** : why am i friends with sinners_

_**DangerousKurves88** : cuz you can't spell 'amusing' without 'sin'?_

_**chiangchiang** : IF YOU POORLY CIRCUMCISED DICK TWITCHES DON'T SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW I WILL FUCKING KICK YOUR SORRY DUMBASSES SIX WAYS TO SUNDAY YOU GOT THAT?!?!_

_**P!nk_Unicorn12** : and HERE we have what appears to be a capitalist_

_**Gatto_NERO-trippi** : angelica that's literally off of tumblr bruh unoriginal. and you just killed my hype bleeh not cool -_-_

_**P!nk_Unicorn12** : shhhh just go with it ;)_

"You okay there, Triela?", Claes Johannson, Triela's foster sister, asked as she came over to her desk with two girls she didn't recognize. 

The blonde was _not_  okay—in fact she was _dying_ of laughter yet _again._ She really shouldn't have said those things—she really shouldn't have—she'd be as mad as Chiara if her friends made crude comments like that, plus a dank meme on the side—but it happened.

And it was _funny_  as _hell._

"Y-you have memes!!", she heard Angelica wheeze out between fits of hysterical laughter. "I _knew_  you secretly loved them, I _knew_ it!" 

"...memes?", the short brunette with Claes asked.

"It's a picture with something funny on it", the other kid, a blonde, said to the former girl. "You know, what we look at on the computer sometimes?"

"...oh."

"...O...kay", said Claes awkwardly. Then, turning her attention to a semi-controlled Triela, she started to introduce the two girls with her. 

"Triela, this is Henrietta", the bespectacled girl gestured to the brunette on her left, who shyly looked away to the floor, "and this is Rico." She gestured to the slightly taller blonde, who waved at her with a perky smile. "They're new students here. Henrietta, Rico, this is Triela—she's my foster sister."

"Hi guys!", Triela greeted the two girls with a wave in between giggles. "How's your first day going so far?"

"It's great!", answered Rico excitedly. "I've made some great friends here, and all my teachers are really nice!"

"That's good", Triela said, completely settled down...for now.

"Triela, Gattonero says she's gonna start using your 'you can't spell amusing without sin' thing now", Angelica called, not quite over her hysterics just yet. 

"Oh no she isn't! I _just_ made that up, and that's one of the only original things I've said that's funny! It's _mine!_ "

Her friend's gray eyes landed on Claes...or rather, the brunette next to her...Henrietta, and they lit up with recognition. 

"Hey!", she called to her, moving out of her seat to join the group. "Hey, I know you! You're the kid...", she then faltered, backing up just a bit out of...

...nervousness?

"The girl you tried to make feel comfortable in her own skin, but ended up making a fool of yourself in front of, as well as everyone else in the classroom?", inquired Claes with a raised eyebrow. 

Triela gaped. "You saw that?!"

Angelica's face flushed a bright shade of pink. Triela swore she also saw an eye twitch.

"Wait. Saw _what?_ ", asked a confused Rico.

"Yeah, I saw it", Claes answered Triela. "She did it in 1st period Health Science. I'm _in_ 1st period Health Science." 

"...oh, yeah. Right", Triela said with an awkward chuckle. "I knew that."

"...mmhmm."

"I mean, _I_ saw it on Caleb Tucker's Snapchat so—"

"Okay, can you please shut the hell up about what you saw on Snapchat? Thank you", Angelica snipped after covering Triela's mouth with a hand, and the other placed on top of her head. She then removed her hands and started to head back to her seat. 

"So...you're Angelica?", Henrietta asked the raven-haired girl nervously. 

"That would be me", the latter girl replied, mock-perkily and sarcastically pointed a finger at herself. 

"What did you do?", Rico asked again.

"Don't worry about it", Claes told her as Angelica's eye twitched. (again...?)

Angelica then closed her eyes and took a deep breath, in through her nose, out through her mouth, and stayed very still for a long moment. Probably to calm herself down and resist stabbing somebody's jugular, Triela deduced. 

Clicking her tongue and snapping her eyes open, she outstretched her hand to Rico with another one of her too perky smiles. "I'm Angelica, and you are?"

"Rico", the blonde replied, taking Angelica's hand and shaking it as the tardy bell rang.

"Nice to meet you, Rico. You too, brownie. See ya later", the quirky girl said quickly yet politely as she returned to her seat in the back of the room.

"Alright everyone, now if you could take your seats so we can started", the World History teacher, Mr. Napier, told his class as he closed the decorated wooden door behind him. 

"Mr. Napier?", Claes called, moving towards him, the new girls trailing closely behind him. 

The conversation she had with the man was concerning Henrietta and Rico and them being new students and all that, Mr. Napier introducing himself, the girls introducing each other to him (although Rico was the one doing most of the talking from that end), and Mr. Napier telling them his class procedures, and giving them new seats after telling them to grab a paper that had details about a new project (good grief), Henrietta sitting in the row closest to the supplies desk, somewhere in the middle, and Rico sitting right next to B-Bot, Claes's friend. 

(If there was one thing Triela liked about her World History teacher, it was that he didn't put newbies in the spotlight. She could tell Henrietta was a bit shy around other people, and to put people with that kind of anxiety in the front of the classroom to introduce themselves to their new peers...it just really pissed her off. They could get to know their peers face-to-face, individually. It was kinda hard, but to forcibly be put under more pressure, to the blonde, was ridiculous. Especially since her best friend had social anxiety, though in a milder form.)

"Now then", Mr. Napier began as he moved to the podium in the front of the room. "We're halfway through the 3rd quarter of the 2nd six weeks, and for the first half of that period of time, we've been learning about ancient Rome—the government, its people's way of life...all that fun stuff. I've decided for the next half that you are going to be working on a project on the First Triumvirate—you know, the political alliance between three men sharing equal power...Julius Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus."

 _First Triumvirate?,_ Triela thought. _Ah, crap._

History wasn't the pigtailed blonde's worst subject, but it wasn't her best, either. Some parts of it was interesting, but no matter how attention-grabbing Mr. Napier made it for her (she had to give the man credit where it was due; the skinny, bespectacled, brunette man knew how to enthrall), and no matter how much Hilshire drilled into her lecture after lecture about her need to bring the history grade up (Hilshire's favorite subject as a kid was history...no surprise there), that feeling of boredom and her already short attention span reigned supreme. _Especially_  when it came to ancient Rome and ancient Greece. Seriously. She couldn't remember the last time she _actually_ took the time to pay attention to save her neck from being breathed down upon. 

Of course, she _could_ do the research, but the need to check what was going on on her many social media pages, one way or another, would put her on the lovely path to procrastination. 

"You're going to be doing research on the First Triumvirate's history", Mr. Napier continued on. "Like, put a little bit about its leaders, what they did for Rome, how long they lasted...kinda what you'd see in your history textbooks, except you're going to need to put those bits of text in your _own words,_ not what the book says. Same thing goes for Internet research, don't put down what you see, write your own words in." 

_Alright, I'll be original. That's not really a problem for me._

And it wasn't, really. She was all for originality, in fact.

"You can use 2 different methods of creating your project", the World History droned on. "You can either use a poster board that is 22 inches in length, 28 inches by width...I'd prefer the poster board to be white...or, you can use Keynote on those laptops in that cart over there." He gestured to a big black cart to his right where several MacBooks lay stacked up on each other, and long wired chargers lay sprawled out, some even touching the tile floor. 

And that was while Triela was singing Taylor Swift's "22" in her head, having heard the number 22, not really trying to conceal another dopey smile. 

"Be sure to make the Keynotes very creative-looking", added Mr. Napier. "Make the slides colorful, add animation to your texts and pictures, that sort of thing. I'm sure most of you in here have used Keynote at least once this year, so you might know the whole way around it. And if you don't, I'll be willing to show you as soon as I'm done explaining what you're supposed to be doing. Anyway, same thing goes for the poster board, if you're planning on making a poster. Creativity is 20 points for your final grade. I'm also going to be keeping a keen eye out for spelling errors, punctuations, grammatical errors, things like that. That's going to be 30 points for your final grade." 

A chorus of "whaaat"s filled the room.

"Don't act so surprised, guys", Mr. Napier chided the class. "You're like, 14, 15, 16? You should know how to spell words at this point."

Triela had to agree. Granted, she wasn't a genius, but she at _least_ knew how to spell the most _basic_ of words. Unlike _some_ people in this class, whose lack of knowledge in spelling was _so_ cringey (they'd swapped and graded each other's papers every once in a while), that Triela was honestly surprised they'd made it past kindergarden. 

And she seriously doubted that anybody in the room suffered from dyslexia. 

Although...

"Anyway", Mr. Napier continued nonchalantly, as soon as the class quieted down once more, "This will be done in class, we'll be spending the next couple of weeks doing nothing but working on our projects. The reason is, you'll be working in partners on this project."

The news of that wasn't really surprising, nor was it exciting to the class. They just remained silent at the idea. It seemed even Lance Maynard, the most boisterous, annoying student in the class who always had to have his opinion voiced, whether everyone else liked or not, had gotten used to group work being a frequent occurrence in World History. 

(Even though he rather loudly talked and goofed off with whoever he was working with the majority of the time. And when he was told to get to work, he did a little piece of the work and made a comment about how he was the most hard-working student in the class and how much better he was than everyone else before going back to his slacking off. Yet another reason Triela hated football players.) 

" _This_ time though, I'm picking who's gonna work with who", pointed out Mr. Napier. Then, rather pointedly, he looked at Jackson Percy, who was sitting right next to her, and grated out, "I don't know about you guys, but I don't want another repeat of inappropriate music blaring in my room, _and_ a need to explain what happened to Mrs. Morrow next door."  

Jackson just snickered while Triela (and probably everyone else, with the exception of Claes, Henrietta, and Rico), merely screamed internally. 

"So I'm gonna go over this real quick", said Mr. Napier, picking up a piece of paper--the list of who was gonna be partnered with who, while Triela crossed her fingers that she was going to be partnered with Claes. She loved working with Angelica...she was her best friend, she made almost everything boring fun...but right now, she needed someone that'd help her ace the project.  

"Alright. Triela, you'll be with Beatrice..."

 _Beatrice? Okay, that's not really much of a problem_ , Triela thought, somewhat content with who she got. _B-Bot's smart enough, she can help me out. She may be real boring, but that's not what's important right? She's nice enough. At least I didn't get partnered with the Ice Queen or anything._

"Thomas, you're with Evan, Will, you're with Mike, Claes, you're with Angelica..."

 _Oh, irony._  

"Emily, you're with Raoul, Henrietta, you're gonna be put with Elsa..." 

_Oh no. Really? That sweet little thing's gonna be put with the Moody McMeanie human embodiment herself? Mr. Napier's a nice guy and all, but right now I wanna knock some sense into him._

Everyone in the school and their mothers knew that Elsa de Sica was a real bitch. She was cold to others around her who at least tried to be friendly with her, keeping her distance from anybody and everybody. And judging by Henrietta's clear nervousness at being paired with the snooty blonde seated smack in the middle of the room, coupled with Elsa's face turning more grumpy than usual, as if she knew exactly who the brunette was...well, for one, neither of them really were for the idea, either, and two, there was a possiblity that Henrietta had experienced Elsa's bitchiness firsthand earlier in the day. 

To an extent, Triela knew why it was that made Elsa so prickly and antisocial. Chiara Azzari, a friend of hers since the 8th grade, had said that she'd witnessed some boys bullying her. That, paired with Claes telling her one time that one doesn't really know what exactly makes another person tick (which was true, in some cases), the pigtailed blonde almost felt sorry for Elsa. But it was hard to actually feel any sympathy for someone who believed in biting everyone's heads off most of the time. 

There were rare instances where the blonde with the twin braids put away her hostilities and acted...well, _nice_ certainly wasn't the right word... _neutral_ , maybe? with Triela. Those times were earlier in the year, most of them being times where they were forced to work together on little assignments for various assignments. It was almost as if there was actually a human being under all that prickly skin...

...but she didn't want to get _too_ carried away with that jazz.

"Elijah, you're with Maricella, Rico, you're with Lance, Don, you're with Jacob..."

_Whoa, as if things couldn't get any worse for these two._

Rico seemed to recognize the name, her bright blue eyes lighting up and looking around the room and settling on her partner for the next couple of weeks, the muscular football player smiling and saluting at the girl, Rico doing the same with a good amount of dopey. 

She guessed the two of them got friendly earlier today as well. 

She figured sometime soon she'd have to break the news to Rico that her partner may seem like a nice guy, but was actually a completely arrogant jackass. But the problem was, her impulsiveness was telling her to do so _right at this very second_ , but her rational state of mind said to wait...how long, it didn't know, but soon. She didn't want this new kid to suffer from a kid's love of popularity, but she didn't know if it was going to cause even more problems than necessary for the poor girl in the future. Maybe this kid was a stubborn person.

 _Damn it_ , Triela _hated_ when her brain did this. She _really_ did. 

"If you don't remember who you're partnered with tomorrow, I'll remind you when you come to my class next time", Mr. Napier was saying now. "If, for some reason, you can't get poster board from the store, I've got a few on my desk you can use. Does anyone have any questions? ...Yes, ma'am?"

"How many slides does the Keynote have to be?", Angelica was asking. 

"I'd prefer a minimum of around 11 or 12", was the answer. "But you can do more than that, if you'd like. Anyone else? ...Yes, sir?"

"Can we work on our projects outside of school...like, if we're doing a poster and we're cool and all, we can go work on it at each other's houses and stuff like that?", a boy named Mike asked.

"You can tak it home with you when class is over, sure", Mr. Napier replied. "Or you can leave it with me. But no, we're working on this project _in class_."

"Okay", said Mike.

"Any more questions?"

Everyone remained silent, as there were no other questions to be asked. 

"Going once...going twice...", said Mr. Napier. Yet the students remained silent.

The teacher clapped his hands together and said, "Okay then, get out your cell phones or a computer over there if you don't have one. We're gonna play a game of Kahoot." 

Triela's phone started vibrating as everyone else started getting ready for the online game.

_2 new messages: Kik_

She put in her 4-digit passcode and looked at what was going on in her groupchat.

_**chiangchiang** : FUCK YOU GUYS! FUCK! Y O U!!!_

_**P!nk_Unicorn12** : #salty #thirstyhoes_

_**Gatto_NERO-trippi** : I'mma bounce my 10yrold eyes can't take this profanity no more _

_**Gatto_NERO-trippi has left the chat** _

Triela's dopey smile came back full force as she held back another round of laughter, closing out of Kik and getting ready to play a Kahoot, putting in an earbud as she swiped up and put on some of her music. 

* * *

"What are you staring at, you bitch?!", Soni LiVolsi was shouting at Elsa as the latter walked passed her by at the front of the school. 

Elsa didn't answer, and just continued walking. 

That was, until Lance Maynard, Soni's boyfriend, strode towards her and roughly pushed her against the school's brick wall and pinned her there by her green jacket. 

"My baby just asked you a _question_ , _cupcake_ ", the football jock sneered in her ear. "And you _best_ give her an answer."

"Who said I had to answer to anyone?", the blonde spat back.  

The taller boy smacked her in the face (that was gonna leave a bruise for sure) as his side-bitch from hell strode over, arms crossed expectantly.  

" _Answer_ her!", Lance shouted, pointing towards Soni. 

"Did your mother ever tell you it's wrong to hit a girl?", Elsa retorted. "Oh, I forgot...you're too full of yourself to— _auuggh_...!"

Elsa got kneed in the stomach mid-speech, and she was keeling over in pain...well, as far as she could with Lance towering over her and pinning her to the wall. 

"Hollah, Lance-o!", Lance's buddy, Gavin Sanchez, was shouting a good distance away. "You and Soni hurry up, will you? We're gonna be late to the movie!"

"Not until this ugly _cunt_ explains herself and apologizes to us I'm not!", Lance shouted back. He then turned to her again. 

"Listen here, you little _runt_ ", he was saying lowly, venomously now. "I gotta go see a movie with my Soni-pony, and a couple of my friends and their girls, but I'm not leaving until you explain to us _what_ you was doing, and when we get our apology. I suggest you hurry the fuck up and tell us, or things gon' get _real_ ugly, _real_ quick. I _hate_ being late t' _anything_ , but I hate it _more_ when _Soni's_ late, too."

Elsa _hated_ submission with her very being. Especially in her situation in this moment. Most of the time, Lance, Soni, and their demon spawns of friends would toss some insults this way and that at her, sometimes doing one of their "Jam Sessions", where they cornered her and spewed insults towards her one by one. Physical bullying was an anomaly, as they usually thought of her as so disgusting they didn't want to lay a single finger on her.  

She guessed it was that time of the month. For both of them.

Elsa sighed, knowing there was no other way out of this. 

"Alright", she admitted. "You wanna know what I was staring at? Fine. I was staring at _her._..", she nodded her head at Soni, "...and wondering if she was secretly a prostitute." 

The reaction was immediate. 

The tall African-American boy punched Elsa square in the nose, the back of her head colliding with the rough brick wall behind her.  

Lance then let her go, Elsa immediately falling to her knees while gripping her spinning head, even when Lance kicked her in the back, sending her front-first to the concrete below her. 

"You take that _back_ , you fucking stupid bitch!", the football player roared, stomping hard onto her back. "TAKE IT _BACK!!_ "

"Go, baby!", Soni jeered on. "You _tell_  her!"

"Take it back! Take it back!", Lance was shouting out like a mantra, all the while stomping on her back with all the power in his foot. (Thank God he wasn't wearing cleets.) "Take. It. Back!!"

But Elsa refused; that, and she couldn't 'take it back'. For one, he wanted an answer, so she gave him one. And two, once something had been said, it wasn't possible to rewind and say something totally different. 

Lance pounded her with his foot a little more while Soni cheered him on, his friends even joining in on the fun. Elsa would've sarcastically joined in; the foot pounding didn't even hurt, really...but the back of her head was aching and her nose was throbbing badly. 

A moment later, the pounding ended, and the cheering became louder and more unified with satisfaction at their desired result.

"Okay, _that_  was fun to see, man", admitted an approaching Gavin. "But Maria's gettin' _real_ impatient, man. It's 10 minutes 'til our movie, and I'd hate t' keep my baby waitin'."

"Well, this little shit call _my_ girl a prostitute, an' she ain't sayin' nothin' else", hissed Lance, staring at Elsa's prone form with disgust.

" _Owwww, damn!_ ", Gavin exclaimed. "She say that? She really say that to ya, Soni?!"

" _Yes,_ you _dipshit_ ", Soni deadpanned. "And she's not taking it back, _or_ making an effort to apologize."

"Here, I can help with that", Gavin replied, cracking his knuckles and approaching Elsa.

Just then, Elsa was aware of a car door being opened and the _click-clack_ of high heels on pavement reaching the concrete sidewalk. 

"Gavin Sanchez if you and your friends don't get your asses back in this car, this date is off and I'm going home!", Maria Machiavelli, Gavin's toothpick for a girlfriend, exclaimed impatiently.

"Just a second, Maria—"

"No, don't 'just a second' me! The movie's in less than 8 minutes, and you're gonna start wasting your time beating up the Ice Queen?!"

"Hey! _She_ said Soni's a whore—", Lance interjected.

"I don't care, you always beat her up anyway!", Maria shouted out. "Gavin _promised_ me he'd spend more time with me, and we agreed to a movie. And _you two_ promised to be our double date!"

" _Uuurrrrghhh_...", groaned Soni. " _Fine_. We could _always_ do this tomorrow, Lance, do a Jam Session and make her come to her senses and all that. Let's go to the movie, I'm not in the mood to hear Maria bitch and moan about her precious date."

_Oh please. As if beating me senseless wasn't bad enough._

"Hmmmm....you know I can't say no to that lovely face", Lance muttered fondly.

"Yeah, sure. Let's _go._ "

 _Oh **God** , seriously?!, _Elsa thought with disgust. _Go **away** , you fucktards! And take your "PDA" with you! I've got plans too, you know! _

"OKAY, guys, _7_ minutes!", Maria called, heading towards the red Mercedes-Benz, hand-in-hand with Gavin. "Hurry up!"

"Alright, Miss Needy!", Lance appeased, giving an extra kick to Elsa's forehead before walking hand-in-hand with Soni, who flipped her off as they made their way to the car. 

"WOODLAND RHINOS, LET'S GO!", the African-American boy bellowed to the sky as he opened the driver-side door.

"SHUT THE HELL UP AND _DRIVE!"_ , Soni screeched indignantly, slamming the passenger side car door.

Elsa rolled her eyes in annoyance. 

_Yeah, for real._

The blonde stayed where she was until they were out of her line of sight. When they were, she slowly sat up and wiped the blood off of her face with her coat sleeve, avoiding the sight of the small puddle of blood on the concrete sidewalk. She instead pinched her painfully throbbing nose, wincing at the growing pain in the affected area. 

Her nose was probably just gonna have a nasty bruise; she doubted it was broken. Otherwise, she'd be feeling a lot more pain for a _very_ long period of time.

Not that Lauro would care. Well, he'd care, but only about where she'd been once he got home. He'd most likely tell her to suck up the pain and get over it. And then he'd say something about a whole lot of other people in the world had it worse than her, while she had a relatively good life compared to them.

And Elsa knew he had a point made there. 

She stood up and adjusted her backpack, then pulled out her cell phone, which had her bright blue earbuds wrapped around it, and checked the time.  _4:37. I think I have enough time to take a stroll to Paradise._

"Paradise" was an area of Royal Isle Park, a place where kids played around on equipment and all that, that Elsa frequently took walks around. The particular area in the park was basically a forest with a route to walk around and enjoy the beauty of silence and freedom. It was, for all intents and purposes, an escape. An escape from all the rough hell life gave her. An escape from all the bullying her dickheads of peers did to her, an escape from her life at home, and an escape of everything else stressful in her life. More specifically, her not only getting a group project in World History, but also getting Little Miss Midget, of all people, as her partner for it. 

Now, if this were any other teenage girl her age, Elsa figured that girl would just break down and cry, maybe scream at God asking why her life was so unfair. But the blonde couldn't find it in her to do either. She couldn't really find it in her to care anymore, if she was being bluntly honest. She just felt...nothing. Not loneliness, not frustration unless provoked, certainly not hurt, just...nothing. 

Nothing at all. 

She supposed she'd rather feel that than a torrent of things she'd rather not go through. The blonde guessed it had something to do with her love of music, city lights, and drawing. 

She unwrapped her earbuds from her phone (actually, both items were formerly Lauro's...she secretly took them once he deemed them useless; though the earbuds worked just fine), and opened up the music app, touching the file that had the name "Lana Del Rey", under it, and hit the "Shuffle" button, sticking the earbuds in and starting to walk to her safe space, pretending she wasn't assaulted at all. 

Pretending, for this moment, and several moments after, that everything was okay. 

Or at least, as okay as it was with forming bruises on her face and footprint on the back of her jacket...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna go ahead and say this now and not when things start to get REAL serious in this story: If you are reading this, and you're a victim of bullying, I. URGE you, to tell your parents, or another trusted adult what is happening to you. Yes, they may be making threats that if you tell anybody what's going on between you guys, they'll screw you up pretty bad...or worse...but I'll let you in on a little secret: that's a bunch of bullshit. They're just saying that to terrify you to the point that you won't tell so they can keep doing what they're doing to you. You're not weak, either, or a tattletale if you tell. You'll be putting a stop to unnecessary pain if you let an adult help you out. 
> 
> I'm aware that all that hurt and low self-esteem stuff doesn't go away on its own, but I'm positive if you tell an adult, you'll get some help from those around you to make it vanish. There are people that truly care about your well-being, and want you to keep moving forward. Like me, the aspiring writer here. ;)
> 
> Bullying is capable of damage to one's psyche, and can lead to depression, self-destructive behaviors, and suicide. I want to also say this: if you are feeling this way because of some dicks saying you're worthless, please. Get. Help. You don't need to fight alone. There are people around you who care, who are genuine. I care. 
> 
> Wrists are for bracelets, not for scars. Your stomach is there to help you digest food, not a place to fry under bleach. (Or Tide Pods, lol) The bathtub is for bathing, not for drowning. The bridge is for sightseeing, not for leaping to your death. Take the right amount of pills, please don't overdose. And for the love of God, don't tie a noose around your neck...tie it around your mind to a tree and tell it, "You belong to me, this isn't a noose, this is a leash, and you must obey me."
> 
> (LOL I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself it was too perfect |-/)
> 
> Here's a list of suicide hotline numbers for you to call if you feel suicidal: 
> 
> 1(800)273-8255 (USA)  
> +44 (0) 845 790 9090 (UK)  
> (778)783-0177 (Canada)  
> 0800 111 0 333 (Deutschland) (Vertrau mir, es ist keine Nummer für die Illuminaten LOL)  
> 01 40 44 46 45 (Français)  
> 91 44 24640050 (इंडिया)  
> 800-810-1117 (中國)  
> (2) 715 8600 (대한민국)  
> 03-5774-0992 (日本)  
> 13 11 14 (Australia)  
> 322-2763 (Bahamas)  
> +55 51 211 2888 (Brasil)  
> 222 580 697 (Česká republika)  
> 010 195 202 (Suomi)  
> 800 86 00 22 (Italia)  
> 603 4265 7995 (Malaysia)  
> (55) 5259-8121 (Méjico)  
> 0900-0113 (Nederland)  
> 0800 376 633 (New Zealand)  
> 22 40 00 40 (Norge)  
> (02) 8969191 (Pilipinas)  
> 225 50 60 70 (Portugues)  
> 007 (8202) 577-577 (Россия)  
> 717 003 717 (España)  
> 89 527 00 00 (Polska)  
> 802002-7291 (Sverige)  
> +41 (0) 27 321 21 21 (Schweiz)
> 
> (I'm sorry if I didn't get your country, I'd be more than willing to put your country's number in a later chapter. You can put it in the comments if you'd like. ;))


	5. while we sing to the sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, we get into more character development territory, and the relationships with the girls and their handlers...who aren't really their handlers in this story.

"See you tomorrow!", called Rico with one of her friendly smiles and waves as she headed towards her side of the duplex.

"See you tomorrow", Henrietta echoed as she did the same. 

Once the brunette reached the door on the left side of the house, she bent over, flopped over the doormat, and pulled out the house key that Jose had left for her under there earlier in the day before he left for work. She flopped the rough surface back over and shoved the the end of the key into the keyhole above the curved silver door handle once she had stood upright. Turning the key to the left, she then pushed down the handle and gently pushed open the white rectangular door, and let herself into her new home.

Henrietta and Rico both had moved into a duplex, a house where two different residents (or, in their case, familiar) lived in the same house, but there were walls that split it in half, making it seem like two houses molded into one, in the suburbs of Kenova, Kentucky, all the way from Lansing, Michigan, only a few months ago. The reason behind the move was Henrietta and Rico's legal guardians, Jean and Jose Croce, got what they believed to be "better" office jobs for a company whose name Henrietta couldn't remember.

Sure, the move was hard for all four of them, physically and emotionally. The long drive southeast, and the packing and unpacking was tiring, and the forceful severing of the friendships she and Rico had made back in Lansing was sad...

...but there  _were_ good things that had come out of the move. Jean and Jose got better jobs that they both seemed to like; Jose's happiness was the equivalent of a diamond to Henrietta. As long as he was happy, she was happy. 

And Henrietta  _had_ made three new friends on her first day in high school, which was quicker than the amount of time she'd made friends in Lansing. And it was a higher amount that she'd made in the span of  _one_ _day._ The mere thought of this accomplishment sent a warm, fuzzy feeling through her heart.

She really liked Claes as a person. It turned out, with some small talk and help from Rico, that they both liked a lot of the same books, and some of the same classical composers. She also liked that the bespectacled sophomore was easy to approach, easy to talk to. It was almost as if she had this  _power_ behind her; the power to break complex things down, like social skills, and made them simpler, not so complicated. 

The brunette wondered how she did it. She guessed it maybe had something to do with her maturity. And maybe her reserved personality had a part to play in that, too.

She liked Triela, Claes's foster sister, and her friend Angelica as well. The two girls seemed really nice enough to her. Both girls included her and Rico in a short conversation where they introduced themselves before the tardy bell rang for 6th period World History. And Angelica had given (well...rather tossed) her an eraser when the one on her pencil had shrunk into the metal end holding it into place. 

Both girls seemed really sweet and all...but they did seem to have some... _peculiarity..._ to them. Like what Angelica did in her Health Science class.  _And_ that Triela felt the need to do 2 squats every time she got a question wrong on this...Kahoot...thing that she and her World History peers partook in. 

But...they seemed nice enough. If she could befriend Claes, the girl who saved her and Rico's tails from trouble on the bus, then Henrietta guessed becoming good friends with Claes's friends was worth a shot. 

She didn't get to talk to either that much, though...as that all-too familiar, nagging feeling of anxiety had rolled back in once more and stayed there for the rest of the day. 

Why?

Oh...she just had a project that was due two weeks from now. And her partner for said project was that girl with the two braids. 

Elsa. 

Elsa. The very same girl who snapped at her on the bus and refused to share her seat with her. The very same girl who didn't like her because...

...well...Henrietta didn't know  _what_ she could've done that made Elsa so mad at her. She didn't know why the latter girl felt the need to attempt to bite her head off. 

And based off of Claes's reaction to Elsa's anger towards her, she probably didn't know the reason, either. 

...or...maybe she did. Claes was smart, she knew a lot. Maybe she knew the reason behind Elsa's hostility towards her.

Whatever it was, it couldn't be a very good one.

She knew she could just ask Mr. Napier, her new World History teacher, if she could be switched with someone else; Rico claimed that had worked with her once. But with the way he had chided the class for their lack of knowledge in the field of spelling in mind, it felt like he didn't really care for his students that much, despite his overall friendly demeanor.

And if she asked him something like that, it'd only add on, and possibly grow into a personal grudge in the near future. And she'd rather not have one of those aimed her way. Besides, the question didn't seem make his job easier, nor was it relevant to it. He was there to teach, and she, as a student, was to learn from his lessons. That was all. 

But that meant she'd still have to work with Elsa on that First Triumvirate project. And Henrietta had absolutely  _no_ idea how the two of them were going to complete said project if the blonde hated her, and hated just about everybody she came into contact with...at least, that's what Claes had said earlier this morning on the bus.

 _Oh, out of all the kids in that_ _class, why'd I have to get paired with_ Elsa?! _,_ Henrietta mentally groaned as her anxiety grew.

Henrietta wished with all of her being that Jose was home. He'd know exactly how she'd need to take care of this predicament. He knew how to get out of just about any sticky situation himself. She knew for sure the situation she was in was no exception.

But he wouldn't be back home for another few hours, so her problem would have to wait for a while, no matter how much she wished it didn't have to.

She sighed, taking to her room upstairs, having decided to work on her other assignments while she waited. Once she entered her room, the brunette set her cream-colored backpack with a dark pink flower pattern on her twin-sized bed and unzipped the second-to-last brown zipper, locating and pulling out her plastic pastel yellow homework folder with white polka dots, which had her name on the white name tag stuck to the middle of it. Opening it up, she went to her white desk, and pulled out a pencil in the wired container at the right corner, and worked on her Spanish homework, which was basically just translating colors and shapes into English. 

Once that was done, she placed the finished paper back in, and started to work on her Algebra homework. But a few minutes into the assignment, to her dismay, the problems turned out to be  _hard._ Henrietta didn't understand half of what she was supposed to do; the instructions were vague...and she got the feeling she was doing the ones that she had done were solved the wrong way.  _Oh no..._

...well...maybe she could ask Jose if he could help her out. _Yeah._ He was always willing to do so...he always did that with her when she was in middle school...

Henrietta left the assignment on her desk for the time being, and turned to her Amati violin, which sat pliant in front of her closet door. 

 _Maybe I could practice for a little while I wait,_ Henrietta thought to herself coyly.

So that's what she did. She opened up its case, took out the instrument and bow, set up some of the sheet music she had, and warmed up a little with some scales and etudes for a few minutes, before perfectly running through a few pieces, and practicing on certain parts of some that she was a little or a bit rusty on, particularly the "love" section of Liszt's _Les préludes,_ which took up the 47th bar to the 108th bar. 

Then, after an hour and a half, the small brunette felt thirsty, so she put away her instrument, and went downstairs for a glass of water. While she was getting the ice, she heard a car pull up to her driveway. 

Curious, she looked at the clock where the oven was.  _6:28 PM_ was what the neon blue numbers read. 

At this, her excitement grew _exponentially._

_Jose's home! Jose's home!_

Henrietta was legally taken into Jose's custody when she was nine years old and living in a foster home with Rico. Both girls had lived in New Horizons Foster Home in Lansing, Michigan for practically their whole lives. She never knew why, and why she didn't live in a home with actual parents, but it wasn't ever really of utmost importance to her. Living in that foster home with Rico and about twelve other boys and girls was nice, despite not getting along with all of them. Or socializing with all of them.

But one day, around...two or three months...before her tenth birthday, she got the news that she and Rico both were going to be adopted. 

Both girls felt ecstatic at this, although Henrietta thought she was going to miss Rico, not seeing her again. Rico was the only person she ever really socialized with outside of the foster workers taking care of them. The two girls had grown rather close with that time they spent.

But when she learned that they were going to be adopted by  _brothers,_ who happened to live across the street from each other, and that they could see each other frequently, that boosted the brunette's happiness. 

When she first met Jose, Henrietta had been incredibly nervous. She wondered if he was going to treat her as nicely as the caregivers at New Horizons, and if she would be allowed to see Rico as often as she was told she would be able to. 

The answer to both questions turned out to be a resounding 'yes'. 

Jose was extremely doting to her, showering her with gifts, especially when she first moved in and 'Croce' became her official last name. (The kids at New Horizons were never really given last names.) Among those gifts were a Nikon camera and a golden kaleidoscope all the way from France, which sat proudly on her nightstand next to her bed. 

The two of them did practically everything together. Jose was the one who introduced her to stargazing and Greek mythology; they had a big white telescope standing in their backyard that they both used to look at the stars and talk about the ancient legends and gods and goddesses that the Ancient Greek people believed in, while enjoying each other's company. Sometimes Rico would join in, but it wasn't an often occurrence. This was sort of a good thing to Henrietta; not that she didn't enjoy her friend's company, no, certainly not that...she just felt that it was kind of just something that was meant more for her and Jose only. Rico kind of acted out the part of the annoying third wheel rather perfectly. 

To Henrietta, Jose was her world. He gave her so much kindness, so much generosity. So much  _goodness._ It was as if she were living in a fairy tale, that, sure, had its ups and downs, but everything pretty much turned into rainbows and butterflies when Jose was there. She was like his princess, and him her knight in shining armor. _In a completely platonic way._

Yes. Completely platonic with boundaries forbidding more than strictly allowed. Right.

The doorknob turned, and so did the door, revealing her beloved legal guardian, who stepped into the house, while she ran towards his direction excitedly.

" _Jose!_ ", Henrietta exclaimed, running over to him and enveloping him in a hug.

Jose returned the hug, smiling warmly down at her shorter form. 

"Hi, Henrietta", he greeted the girl in his arms with just as much warmth. "How was your first day of high school?"

"It was good", the girl replied, pulling away. And that wasn't really a lie; her first day at Woodland Heights High was overall a good one...even if it ended in a roiling pit of anxiety settling in by one bad thing. Optimism, Jose had told her once, helped out to make better days. 

"That's good", Jose replied. "Did you make any friends there?"

"Yes, I did!", said Henrietta, remembering Claes, Angelica, and Triela and how nice they were to her and Rico. "I met these three girls today...one of them let me and Rico sit by her on the bus, and two of them are in my World History class. They're all sophomores, and they were so nice to us!"

"That's really good, Henrietta", said Jose, smile widening. "See? I told you you'd make some friends this year."

The girl blushed with a shy smile of her own. 

Yes, Jose was right about that. He was right about anything and everything.

"So...who are these girls you've be _friended_?"

So Henrietta began to tell Jose about Claes, what she looked like and what she did for the two of them on the bus earlier that morning, what she was like. She told him about the classes they shared, and how she helped her get to a few of the classes on her schedule. She also told him that she and Claes liked a lot of the same books and music, and had similar hobbies. She also told him she had a foster sister named Triela, who was much more outgoing, and was wearing boy clothes in their World History class like Rico did, and her best friend, Angelica, who had come from the main office and attempted to do a cartwheel in her Health Science class...and failed...much to the amusement of the others in the class, and even the  _teacher._

All the while, Jose was listening to her describe her day in graphic detail with rapt attention, making side comments and asking questions every so often. 

Then, Henrietta told him her main problem of the day. Her World History teacher, Mr. Napier, assigned the class a project on the First Triumvirate, and it was due in two weeks from today. The class was told they had to work in partners for said project, and Henrietta was partnered with Elsa, the girl on the bus who had snapped at her and refused to share her seat with her. 

"...and she just didn't seem to  _like_ me", Henrietta was saying quietly. "I don't know  _why,_ though...I don't recall ever doing something to make her angry, I only met her just today...Jose, I'm anxious. I...Elsa hates me, and I have to work with her for the next two weeks. What do you think I should do?"

Jose's expression had turned into one of concern, staying silent. Probably to think of something, the brunette deduced.

"Well, Henrietta", he finally said. "There's always gonna be people out there who are going to be mean. And it's not okay, it's not fair, but unfortunately, it's part of life. You're gonna come across people who aren't going to be pleasant to come across."

Henrietta's expression turned crestfallen, and her head went downwards.

"But sometimes", Jose continued. "You have to work with those people to achieve a common goal. I had to do it all the time back in Lansing."

"Really?", Henrietta inquired.

"Yeah. It wasn't easy, but in the end, we got our day's work done, and then went on doing work the next day. And the next day, and the day after that."

"But Jose", the girl pressed, "she snapped at me and Rico! What if she starts saying mean things to me while we're trying to work and calls me names? What if she starts calling _Rico_ names and picks on _her?_ "

"If she does that, then _she's_ the one with the problem, Henrietta", Jose answered. "Not you. You're a beautiful, smart, and kind girl with a  _lot_ to offer. And if this Elsa girl can't see that, then you don't need her around. Yes, you have to work on this project with her for these coming weeks, so when you  _are_ around her, working on this project, be the sweet girl that you are, and treat her with the respect she doesn't want to offer you. That may seem I'm asking a lot, but being kind is much better than making a situation worse with words you don't mean getting thrown around and the situation spiraling out of control."

It wasn't the answer Henrietta would've liked, but she figured it was probably going to be the best she was going to get. 

"Okay", she ceded. "But...what if it _does_ get out of hand?"

"If it does get to that point, then don't be scared to tell the teacher what's going on. Let them take care of it for you."

"Okay...but, Jose...Elsa's only in one of my classes, and that's World History...and...when Mr. Napier was explaining the project...he...he kinda got mad at everyone for not knowing how to spell."

Jose chuckled a little at this. "Well...some kids aren't so good at writing words...I'm sure Mr. Napier's a nice teacher, he was just having a long day. And you know what?" He leaned forwards on the counter, elbows resting on the wooden countertop. 

"It was your first day of high school", Jose reminded her. "You've just been around a bunch of other kids who you don't know all that well yet. There's always the possibility that Elsa's a really nice person, and she just had a rough morning. You never know what goes on inside someone else's head and what actually goes on in their life."

"...that's true", Henrietta agreed. And it was true. She hadn't given much thought about that.

"It's gonna be okay, Henrietta", Jose told her kindly. "You're adjusting to a new school— _high_ school—and it just takes a little time to get used to everything. I'm sure this year's gonna be a  _great_ one for you."

"...okay, Jose", Henrietta said with a shy smile.

They both stayed like that for a moment, just enjoying each other's company. 

"Say", Jose said, breaking the silence and changing the subject. "I'm getting kinda hungry...and I'm not really in the mood to cook something up. Is there any particular place you wanna go?"

"Well...I _am_ kind of in the mood for a frosty..."

Jose chuckled. "Wendy's it is, then. Vanilla?"

"Yes, please", Henrietta replied with a giggle.

"You're eating something _real_ first, though", her guardian joked.

Henrietta giggled again, with a blush. "I knew that, Jose!"

"Of course you did. Well...let's go. Then maybe we can stargaze later tonight."

The mention of stargazing with Jose certainly had brought up Henrietta's spirits.  

"Okay, Jose!", gushed Henrietta as she headed out to the car. 

* * *

 _But Aslan said: "Laugh and fear not, creatures. Now that you are no longer dumb and witless, you need not always be grave. For jokes as well as justice come in with speech."                                                                                                                        So they all let themselves go. And there was such merriment that the Jackdaw himself plucked up courage again and perched on the cab-horse's head, between its ears, clapping its wings, and said: "Aslan! Aslan! Have I made the first joke? Will everybody always be told how I made the first joke?"_  
 _"No, little friend", said the Lion. "You have not_ made _the first joke; you have only_ been _the first joke." Then everyone laughed more than ever; but the Jackdaw didn't mind and laughed just as loud till the horse shook its head and the Jackdaw lost its balance and fell off, but remembered its wings (they were still new to it) before it reached the ground. "And now", said Aslan, "Narnia is established. We must take thought for keeping it safe. I will call some of you to my council. Come hither to me, you the chief Dwarf, and you the River-god, and you Oak and the Owl, and both the Ravens and the Bull-Elephant. We must talk together. For though the world is not five hours old an evil has already entered it."_

" _Dammit!_ 2 squats, now! No...no,  _4! 4!_ Yeah, let's do 4!"

_That does it!_

Claes shoved her bookmark in between the two pages she was reading, and stalked out of her room and down the stairs, being met with the sight of her blonde foster sister, in her track uniform, with a single ponytail, lying on the kitchen floor, hands crushed between her lower back and the floor, and feet against the dishwasher.

"Triela!", Claes exclaimed exasperatedly. "What are you doing?! I'm trying to read!"

"I'm _trying_ to prepare for my...urngh...track meet Thursday!", Triela replied with the same tone. "I have to be _at my best_ for this one."

"I'm  _aware_ you take track seriously", the bespectacled girl countered, "but I think after-school practice  _should_ be enough for the coming days!"

"It isn't for me! I don't know about you, but I'd rather not pull a Gattonero and make a fool of myself in Lexington.  _You're_ just mad that this house isn't anywhere close to your definition of  _peaceful._ "

"She  _tore her ACL,_ Triela", snapped Claes, who was starting to get irritated. "It  _happens._ And it'll be more likely to happen if you overwork yourself like that."

"It was  _Chiara_ who tore her ACL!"

" _Sorry_ for my _miscalculation_. You've got so many friends in your circle and my old hermit brain can't seem to keep up, nor can it  _remember_ the last time I  _literally had to carry my foster sister home, because she vomited on the concrete while staggering around the park._ Why?  _She ran too much._ "

" _Shut up!_ ", Triela screeched indignantly. "I ate, like, like...how much does a bear weigh?"

Claes sighed wearily. "It depends on the bear. For example, I think your teddy bear Augustus weighs 2 to 3 pounds."

Triela scoffed, and not a moment too soon both girls became aware of the front door opening and Hilshire walking inside the house.

"Hey, girls", he greeted them airily. "How was—Triela, what are you doing?"

"...just getting ready for my track meet on Thursday, Hilshire", Triela explained to her father.

"Get your feet off the dishwasher", Claes's foster father commanded, using an authority-withered tone. "I'm not in the mood to clean up another mess today."

Triela complied, immediately deciding to do some push-ups instead. 

Hilshire just looked at her blankly for a moment before changing the subject. "So...how was school? Did you guys have anything to eat?"

"Yeah, we finished the leftover chicken casserole from last night", answered Claes. "School was fine, we got two new girls come in from Lansing, actually."

"Oh, really?", Hilshire inquired. "You know...funnily enough, we also got two new employees at the office from Lansing, too. Names are Jean and Jose, and they're brothers who each have a girl in their custody who're just starting their freshmen year."

"Huh", Claes remarked, fascinated. "One of them told me those guys you mentioned were their legal guardians who moved here because they thought the office jobs for your paper company were better."

"#Lansingception", Triela chimed in from the floor. A split-second later, the ponytailed blonde dropped to the floor with a grunt. "Dammit, Angelica! Why you do this to meeeee??"

"Watch your language, Triela", Hilshire scolded her. 

"Yes, sir", the pliant girl muttered. Claes rolled her eyes at this, as she detected sarcasm in her foster sister's voice. 

She loved Triela—she really did—but Claes often found herself wondering why the blonde was so difficult to put up with. Triela was only a few months older than the raven-haired teen, but a lot of times, she didn't really act that way. Sure, the two of them had their differences and didn't see eye to eye on everything, and Claes was okay with that. Differences made people more interesting.

But that didn't mean they weren't borderline insufferable.

And sometimes it was the same thing with similarities. For example, when Claes was first adopted, Hilshire was told she could call him by his last name, which was what everybody who knew him called him by. She somewhat understood it; she'd called a man she once loved by his last name, as if it was his first, so she went with it, and called him like so. 

Triela seemed to pick up on this with curiosity; shortly after she turned twelve, the blonde started calling Hilshire by his last name as well, much to the confusion and annoyance to both of them. They tried to get her to stop calling him that, as they believed it was inappropriate to call one's father by their last name...which they were called by everyone around them. But Triela, being the defiant smartass she was sometimes, continued to call him by his name and not "Dad", like most kids would refer to their male parent figure. It continued for several months, until they both decided to just go along with Triela's incessant insistency by calling her father, who had helped bring her into the world, by his last name like Claes did. 

One would think of it as merely a sibling being a copycat, as a sign that they looked up to one of their siblings, but Claes highly doubted this was the case. She thought of it as an act of defiance, a completely stupid act of trying to prove how mature she was.

But she truly didn't know. She wasn't a mind-reader. 

"So how was work? What were Jean and Jose like?", Claes asked.

"It was actually a very good day", Hilshire answered. "We actually got a  _lot_ more work done than we usually get done in the span of _three_ days. But I think it's really because we must've felt more ready to get things done or something...heh, heh...but Jean and Jose are pretty hard-working guys, they must really like what they do. I mean, they had _quite_ a bit of a hand in getting things done."

"Well, I guess Henrietta wasn't lying when she said they thought the office was better", Claes remarked. 

"Who's Henrietta? Oh, is that one of the girls they have with them?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Speaking of which, they seem pretty young to be taking care of girls that age. Like, I'm not judging or anything, just a detail I've noticed. I know they were adopted, but still. I'm almost 40 years old, but they look like they're in their mid to late _20s_. And, well, you know how much of a handful teenage girls...especially you two...can be."

"Hey!", snapped Triela, who had stopped her exercising briefly for a drink of water. 

Hilshire shrugged, and added, "All I'm saying is, I wonder how men that age can juggle all of that at once. If it were me, that'd be near impossible to do."

Triela and Claes were pretty much polar opposites. They had different hobbies and different ways of looking at things.

_And different experiences..._

If Triela was indignant at Hilshire's comment, then Claes felt as though someone had punched her stomach— _hard—_ and knocked all the air out of her. 

She knew it was an emotional reaction. It was nothing of logical sense. She was loved. She was cared for in this house.

_Or am I..._

Screeching bats of many a number were coming inside the recesses of her mind, flapping their wings incessantly and spreading those all-too familiar dark thoughts like a virus, with no chance of recovery in sight. The bats were taking over, bringing the flames of hell with them as they flew, seeming to develop the English language, and scream in demonic-sounding tongue,  _It's all your fault, it's all your fault, it's all your fault._

_You're a **burden.**_

**_YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE YOU'RE A BURDEN!!_ **

Claes actually gasped, trying to grasp the oxygen floating around her and breathe it in, trying her hardest to fight the suffocating weight of the imaginary boulder that was seemingly crushing her chest. 

Faster than the average person could realize, the bespectacled girl snapped back to reality. Looking Hilshire, her second father figure, in the eye, she said, in what was a surprisingly normal tone of voice, "I just remembered. I'm close to finishing one of my books."

**_YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE!! HE'S DEAD AND YOU'RE NOT!!_ **

It was a lame excuse, too blunt for her taste, though she wasn't one to lie, but she hoped it was a believable one, and that she didn't give away any other signs that she wasn't _actually_ going upstairs to finish a book.

That she felt sad. 

**_IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!_ **

No, she didn't feel sad. Sad was a loose term. Sad didn't even  _begin_ to describe what she was feeling right now. What she had been feeling for the past six years. 

**_IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT, CLAES! WHAT KIND OF DAUGHTER ARE YOU?!_ **

_...Raballo..?!_

Gently, hopefully casually, closing her bedroom door, Claes uncharacteristically jumped to her bed and buried her face in the pillows, stifling her cries even though the pillow was probably doing a good job with that. 

It was exactly six years and two months today. And she was _still_ living without him, and he was six feet under. 

Before Claes started living with Hilshire and his daughter Triela, she had lived in foster care, probably since after her conception. She never knew who her real parents were. When she was five, however, she got adopted by a man named Claudio Raballo, a former captain in the military who retired after he sustained a leg injury during combat, requiring him the use of a cane for the rest of his life. 

Their relationship started off a little rocky, but for the next five years they had a blissful and incredibly close relationship. They both enjoyed reading books, believing it to be a pinnacle of information. They often talked about the books they read, and what they detailed. Sometimes they talked about characters they liked from classical works of fiction. They often went fishing, and when they caught a few they'd often make a fire and grill them over it and have it for lunch or dinner, depending on the time of day. They even planted a few gardens of various plants, too. They did banter...not like she and Triela engaged in...it was more...playful, without a false tone of aggression...mostly when they played chess or some other kind of board game or card game, or billiards. They even made codenames for each other, like his military comrades did. His was just Raballo, and hers was Little Raballo. (Don't judge.) They often used it for fondness, but it was also used for when they played capture the flag, or some kind of war game where they simply had to avoid capture, though it earned more laughs and fond memories (that, in the present, Claes sometimes wished she could forget) than fear.

Yeah, it was like they were two inseparable best friends against the world.

Until it wasn't. 

Until it all just became some distant dream.

One night, when she was ten years old, the police had shown up at her door and broke the news to her that her beloved Raballo, her partner-in-crime, her comrade, had been killed in a hit-and-run accident. 

That was when her world came crashing down. 

Raballo was never coming back. He'd never take her fishing, or read and discuss books with her, best her at chess, or smile as she successfully captured a white flag tied to a tree branch ever again. He'd never call her Little Raballo again. 

He was just...gone. 

He left her.

She was alone, and her heart and soul were shattered.

She didn't attend the funeral; she'd been too devastated and beyond reason. Plus, she couldn't really do so, anyway; she'd been in a hospital undergoing inpatient treatment at the time for trying to join Raballo underground. She wasn't religious, and to this day still doubts any and all of them, but she did believe in the past that there was a happy ending in the afterlife, where the two of them could be together again. 

To this day, she still hoped there was. 

Several eon-feeling months of rehab later, she got put into foster care again, and was extremely avoidant of everyone, just staring at the wall, doing nothing, thinking of nothing, somewhat feeling afraid to get close and have her heart broken again, but mostly just numb. That didn't stop the aides from hovering over her and pushing her to socialize with the other foster kids, which the bespectacled girl understood now was a method to prevent her from becoming worse, even though she took medication for depression and anxiety. 

About a few weeks into her stay, however, a man by the name of Victor Hilshire, who turned out to be a colleague of Raballo's, legally adopted her, and treated the girl as if she were his own daughter. And Triela, his actual daughter, treated her like a sister. They gave her love and great care, something that all families were supposed to do, even when Claes insisted on being cut off from them and the rest of the world. 

The girl was grateful for their patience and kindness. It was what got her past most of the pain and darkness she'd been through in a beyond long enough period. It was what ultimately gave her reason to be happy, and find reason to live, despite feelings of guilt for still living while Raballo was dead (he'd want her to live her life, and she knew it deep down), worthlessness, and helplessness. And the feeling of being a burden on everyone else. 

But it didn't just magically disappear. The pain still lingered, and so did the depression. The medicine she still took didn't fully take away the loss, nor the sorrow. She had relapses, moments where her inner demons came and tormented her, belittling her for not doing something to stop Raballo from dying, or still living her life while his body was lying below the surface, decomposing and rotting inside a coffin. 

She never really felt suicidal anymore; the last time she thought of doing so was halfway through her inpatient treatment. But she  _did_ wish she could disappear from the world. Like, magically just vanish in a wisp of magic. Like, _bippity boppity boo! Oh, look, Claes disappeared! I wonder where she could be!_

And she certainly felt so now, as memories made all those years ago popped up in her mind: Raballo's smile, Raballo helping her catch her first fish, Raballo sitting by the fire reading a book, Raballo taking a photograph of a triumphant Claes after she captured the flag, Raballo educating her, Raballo admiring artwork or music, Raballo setting up a blanket to sit down and watch the 4th of July fireworks on...just...

Claes's cries got slightly louder, feebly hoping somehow, her crying would fill up her room that felt way too empty.  

* * *

Rico woke up to her alarm clock beeping, as well as 'Holy' by the band PVRIS immediately playing inside her skull. She got up out of bed and turned the alarm off, and walked towards her dresser to pick out a shirt and pants to wear, absentmindedly humming to the song she had looked up and sung along to on the Internet a bunch of times the day before. She quickly decided on a plain orange T-shirt and khakis, as well as plain white socks and bra, and changed into those. 

She then went downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a protein bar from one of the kitchen cabinets and proceeded to snack on it, not bothering to take a seat. Today was her second official day at high school, and the blonde was very excited for it. She was excited to get to know the people she met there better, and maybe even form long-lasting friendships with them. 

With excitement came a feeling of productivity. She felt like she could take on an army of medieval soldiers all by herself...okay, not  _really,_ but she felt like she could very easily complete hard tasks that her school was gonna give her. 

Speaking of hard tasks, Rico was really looking forward to working on that History project with Lance, one of the boys she had met in the cafeteria early yesterday morning. He seemed like a cool guy to hang out with; he was a football player--a really good one from what she had heard other guys and girls around the campus say in conversation. She wondered if he could show her how to play sometime, and if he liked any other sports besides football. Rico herself really liked basketball, tennis, and soccer. She actually wanted to join a summer soccer program some few years ago back in Lansing...but sadly, she never got the chance to, as Jean wouldn't allow her to. In fact, sports, music, and almost anything considered  _fun_ was generally discouraged in her household. 

But that didn't seem to stop the blonde from gaining access to those things. Sure, it was a bit rebellious in behavior, but if Rico was being honest, she sometimes  _really hated_ the rules Jean set out for her. They were too rigid, too strict. And she couldn't remember the number of times she turned green with envy when Henrietta gushed about some gift Jose got her, or when she actually saw said gift-giving with her own two eyes. 

But at least she wasn't alone in that line of thinking. Jose and Henrietta both seemed to think so, too; she'd heard both of them say so at least once, the former actually saying so to Jean's face, resulting in a heated discussion between the two brothers, and no change in the situation whatsoever. 

And she actually did like Jean's younger brother better. He was more aware, more lenient with her,  _so_ much more nicer and generous with her. He'd even bought her a few things for her birthday and Christmas. Among those were a flowing red dress with matching arm gloves, for her to wear to special occasions, a book on astronomy, and a stack of playing cards, which she often used to make card houses more than  _playing_ an actual game. She got a few other things too,  _including a soccer ball..._ but Jean had confiscated that and those other things shortly after, and she'd never seen them again. Jose had asked why she hadn't practiced with it before once, and she had nonchalantly replied that she wasn't that interested in the sport anymore, fearful of where telling the truth would lead her.

And there was the fact that she had to dress like a  _boy_ all the time. Her previously armpit-length hair was cut into a much shorter hime-style, and she wasn't allowed to grow it out. And most of the clothes she would wear on a normal day consisted of plain-colored T-shirts, long or short-sleeved, polo shirts, khakis, slacks, and these ugly brown shoes with equally drab laces that untied every hour and a half, no matter how many times Rico double-tied the darned things and made sure they were secure. In that area, she used to get extremely jealous of Henrietta's style of clothing, some other girls at her school and at just about any public place...even the articles of clothing the  _boys_ were wearing made her envious and upset. 

Jeans were forbidden, heck, anything  _denim_ was forbidden, sneakers and tennis shoes were forbidden, tank tops and shorts were forbidden, skirts, sandals, makeup, earrings, and anything remotely  _girly_ was _forbidden_. (Well...with the exception of that red dress, and three brown, beige, and green waist-length jackets that she wore on rainy or cold days. That was it.)

But after a few years passed by, Rico basically gave up. She had lost hope that she was going to be like Henrietta and all the other girls and boys at her school in Lansing, dressing in cool clothes, joining in awesome after-school activities, and just...being  _cool._

But instead of drowning in hopelessness and despair, Rico somewhat accepted it. Due to her optimistic nature, always looking at the bright side of things, she embraced her way of life at home, and just became okay with being herself. She had Henrietta, who was the PB to her J, her teammate, her best friend, her metaphorical little sister...and Jose, her parental and often times big brother figure, who encouraged her, supported her, and showed her kindness where Jean didn't. They both thought she was a great kid to be around, and so did all her friends she left behind in Lansing.

It was _very_ hard for her to leave them and say goodbye...severing bonds, losing constant kindness and support from people who cared. 

But at least she had met new, friendly people here in Kenova. Claes, Triela, Angelica, Gavin, Waylon, and Lance...they'd make a great circle of friends. Rico was sure of it. 

The blonde then became aware that she had been tapping her fingers to 'Migraine' by her all-time favorite band, twenty øne piløts. She giggled at this and threw away her now-eaten protein bar's wrapper. 

Music was something else that Rico was a big fan of. It made her really hyper-happy and excited when she heard it, and poured butterflies in her stomach. The sound of it made her feel free, like everything in her life was all good. Like everything bad just slithered away and made way for exuberance, like the emotion was some great king coming to visit the land he ruled over. It was like a great escape, a backup plan for when words failed to work things out. It was...

... _awesome!_

Henrietta and Jose liked music, too, but they were more into classical pieces of music written by the great composers of the 1700s and 1800s, as well as some opera. The blonde remembered when her brunette friend played Beethoven's 9th for her 11th birthday on her violin, and that time they and Jean went to see 'Tosca', an Italian opera, in an opera theater in Detroit two years ago. 

Rico, however, was more into modern music—music of her day and age. One day, when she was in gym class in 6th grade, her coach was playing music from his speaker, which was wirelessly connected to his cell phone, while they were running laps, and one song that was playing on that day caught her attention. It was catchy, had a fast tempo, and really sounded cool. 

Two girls behind Rico recognized the song very well, squealing with excitement and trying to sing along, but not doing so well with their shortness of breath and running. When the blonde had asked them what song it was after they were done running, she had learned that the song that was playing was called 'Let's Kill Tonight', and it was by a band called Panic! at the Disco. 

The band's name had struck a chord with Rico, and so did the song. She was anxious to hear it again, to play it and sing along with it. It drove her stark-raving  _mad_ that she had just discovered that song and she couldn't sing along to the lyrics, nor could she gain access to that kind of music. Jean, of course, wasn't much of music fan, and music was generally discouraged in her household. 

Eventually, the desperation hit a breaking point. One day, when Jean was at work and she got back from school, Rico snuck into his study, where a Dell computer sat, and looked up the song on YouTube. (Yes, surprisingly, Rico knew what YouTube was...and she knew how to use a computer.) 

And she was  _happy._ Relieved, need, desire satisfied, but  _so, so happy._ It was as if she had fallen down the rabbit hole and discovered an entirely different world. It was scales fell off of her eyes, and she was witnessing a miracle.  _That_ was how awesome the song, the band, and the accompanying music video were. The setting, the singing, and the playing of instruments was on point,  _flawless._ _Amazing._

She kept repeating the song and listening to it, happiness growing by the minute. That was, until one minute she heard Jean's car pull up on the driveway. Rico had closed out of YouTube and turned off the computer and ran out like her pants were on fire out of the study and up to her room, and spent the rest of that evening pretending like nothing had happened. 

Except something  _did_ happen. 

And  _that_ was only the beginning. 

She started going into Jean's study after school almost every day to listen to that song, learning the lyrics to it, and singing along. She also got into other songs that Panic! at the Disco had made, including 'The Ballad of Mona Lisa', 'I Write Sins Not Tragedies', 'Nine In The Afternoon', 'Miss Jackson', and 'This Is Gospel'. And she learned the lyrics to those and watched the music videos for them, as well as songs that didn't have one, but still, nonetheless, felt like candy being given to her ears. 

She also started getting into other bands that were similar to Panic! at the Disco, the more frequent she started sneaking into Jean's study and using his computer to listen to music. Among these bands included Imagine Dragons, Coldplay, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance (she was shocked and disappointed to hear about their break-up in the gym), Paramore, Tonight Alive, Echosmith, fun., PVRIS, and twenty øne piløts, which became her favorite band ever. 

This band was  _very_ unique. They had a techno, electronic element to them, and they put drums, piano, and guitar with it and created a distinct sound. They also combined singing with what she would learn was called rapping, to create rhyme schemes and catchy, yet intriguing and exciting song lyrics that turned sad subjects into something bright and beautiful. Among her favorite songs by the band were 'Tear In My Heart', 'Ride', 'Holding On To You', 'Guns For Hands', 'Screen', 'House of Gold', 'Fake You Out', 'Car Radio', 'Stressed Out', and probably a lot more where that came from. It was almost as if she loved them all.

Rico also loved the band's members she saw in their several music videos and some funny videos of them she looked up on them, too. She found the lead singer, whose name was Tyler Joseph, to be really cute and attractive. And the drummer, Josh Dun, was pretty cool. She liked the definitely unnatural colors his hair was dyed, and his tattooed arm. He was pretty handsome, too.

It was the same way with the other bands she listened to, but not as much as twenty øne piløts. Plus...she didn't know the names of all or any members of the bands she listened to. 

Rico even loved the bands she listened to so much that she found herself tapping her fingers to the beats to several of their songs. She decided it'd be really cool if she could tap a specific song by a specific band to whatever mood she was in. When she was happy or excited, she tapped to twenty øne piløts. When she in a working mood, she tapped to Imagine Dragons. And when she was nervous, she tapped to Fall Out Boy. 

That's all she had regarding that. She hoped she could add more to the list, but she'd have to pair a certain band with a certain mood. 

Sadly, her online discovery was kept a secret from others, including her best friend Henrietta. She had a lot of nice things taken away from her, a lot of chewing out's piled on chewing out's, and she didn't want another one as the cherry on top of that delicious ice cream sundae caused by her irresponsibility. She knew Henrietta didn't keep secrets, even secrets meant to be kept between best friends, from Jose. The two of them couldn't get much closer than they already were. And she knew most of the time when she and her friend talked, so did Jose and Jean, and sometimes those talks led to information meant to be kept secret between the two girls spilled to Jean, sometimes resulting in being disciplined. For some reason, she never called out her friend on this, yet she couldn't risk getting something she had gotten attached to getting taken away from her in the blink of an eye. 

Well...it  _was_ a secret, until she unintentionally spilled the beans to those three boys in the cafeteria. One of them, Waylon, caught onto it and felt the same way, while his two companions didn't seem to care, which was a close call for her, although they didn't know her very well, nor did they know what she lived with.

...oh well. At least she wasn't the only one who liked that type of music. Thousands of people enjoyed the same music she enjoyed. And maybe Lance, Gavin, and Waylon, knew how to keep secrets and not tell anyone. 

She really needed to be more careful. She'd rather have some means of relief in the isolating, suffocating dome around her. 

Rico went back upstairs to the bathroom, brushing her teeth and putting on deodorant, then went back to her room to put on her brown shoes and slipped on her plain blue backpack. She then went downstairs and walked back into the kitchen to get her lunch, when she noticed a yellow sticky note that was left on the refrigerator door, with black Sharpie written on it. It said:

**Rico,**

**I had to** **leave early for work. Get yourself ready for school without causing any future problems.**

**—Jean**

Well, that explained why he hadn't gotten her up and helped her out for school to prevent any said "problems". He always did that with her when she was in elementary and middle school, and on her first day at high school. She wondered briefly what thoughts could've gone through his head to let her get ready by herself, temporarily rescinding his earlier statement that she was incapable of doing anything independently. 

Though, Rico was half unsurprised at this. Jean may have fretted over her and set a lot of rules for her, but she couldn't argue that he didn't take work more seriously than her.

She grabbed her lunch, which was placed in a plastic Walmart grocery bag, and placed it in her backpack. She then walked outside to her split-in-half driveway, which was missing Jean's car, though Jose's car still remained. She sat on the inclined concrete, waiting for her bus and for Henrietta to come outside and join her on the ride to school, while softly singing 'Magic' by Coldplay. She was nearly through with the song until the bus finally showed up, causing her to stand up and start walking over until she heard Henrietta's front door open and the brunette in question walking out to meet her.

"Hi, Henrietta!", the blonde greeted her friend with a smile.

"Hi", Henrietta said, though it lacked its enthusiasm. 

"What's wrong?", asked Rico, going from perky to concerned.

"Just a little tired", the brunette replied as the girls walked toward the bus. "I stayed up a little later than I should've looking at the stars with Jose."

"Oh, that's okay", Rico replied as she stepped on, relieved nothing serious was amiss. 

"Plus, I'm still a little nervous about World History", Henrietta added meekly as she stepped on and the girls started searching for an available seat. "You know Elsa...? The girl that snapped at us yesterday?"

"I think so", Rico answered, finding a completely vacant seat and offering Henrietta the side closest to the window. "Didn't she have the green hat and green coat? Hi, Claes! How's it going? Did you sleep good last night?"

Where they were sitting was right next to their new friend, who was sitting by herself and staring out the window. 

"Are you staring out the window?", Rico asked, even though what she was seeing was plainly obvious. "That's cool, I do that too sometimes! Mostly when I'm in the car with Jean, though. Other times, I'm talking to Henrietta about—"

"Rico", Claes cut in, her face looking surprisingly shrewd, which contrasted her hollow tone. "Please be quiet."

Rico blinked in confusion. "W-what?"

"I said, can you please be quiet", Claes repeated, tone just a touch sharper. "I just...need to be alone for a while..."

 _Claes doesn't sound alright to me,_ Rico thought, concern coming in once again.  _What happened? Is she sick? Did someone hurt her feelings?_

"W-why? What happened?", Rico prodded.

"Rico,  _please_ ", Claes stressed, clearly irritated now. "I need  _space_."

Rico genuinely wanted to know what was wrong with Claes, and wanted to help her out, but a gut feeling told her now might not be the best time to. If Claes wanted to be alone, she probably should leave her alone. 

Dismayed, Rico decided to turn her attention to Henrietta, who seemed just as concerned, but also more anxious, as she was twiddling her thumbs in a quick pace. 

"Hey", Rico called out to her friend, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Claes doesn't hate us, if that's what you're thinking."

Henrietta's gaze nervously went up to reach her's, chocolate brown orbs meeting azure blue ones.

"She's probably mad at something else and she doesn't want to take it out on us", the blonde was grasping at straws now. "Or someone made her sad or something. She doesn't hate us. We didn't do anything."

"...yeah...but...but Elsa...she got mad at us when we wanted to sit with her yesterday", stammered Henrietta. "And...and-and we didn't do anything to her. Jose said Elsa could've just had a bad day...and that's true...but...I don't know, Rico...I don't know if I can interact with her for the next two weeks."

Rico's heart twisted. She hated it when Henrietta got anxious, which was a more frequent occurrence over the past few months. Her friend was very perceptive, very aware of mood changes, especially towards her. She was a sensitive girl, with a sweet and caring heart. Yet she was insecure about what people thought, and if their opinion of her changed, especially Rico's and Jose's. She lived in a loving family (well...most of them were loving), who loved her no matter how many times she would mess up. Everyone made mistakes...some worse than others, but they were mistakes nonetheless. They didn't care about her appearance; she was a beautiful girl. And she was fun to be around. She was friendly and easy to get along with. And she was sure her friends in Lansing thought the same way. 

And Claes, Triela, Angelica, and Gavin, Lance, and Waylon would think the same way...once they got to know her, of course. 

"Don't worry, Henrietta", Rico said, putting on a reassuring smile and making up something motivational as she went along. "Jose's probably right about Elsa. She might've had something bad happen to her and she just didn't want to be around anyone, like Claes is feeling right now. I bet she's a really nice person, and she'll help you out in any way that she can on that project."

"Do you think so?", Henrietta asked. 

"I know so", Rico replied, smiling just a little wider. "You're a sweet, kind, caring, smart, and beautiful person, Henrietta. Who wouldn't want to be around that?"

"...really?"

"Yeah!"

Henrietta smiled gently, making Rico's heart warm. 

"You know...I'm lucky to have a friend like you, Rico", Henrietta said. 

"And I'm lucky to have a friend like you."

"Friends forever?"

Now if that question didn't feel like confetti and fireworks everywhere...

"...yeah! Friends forever!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always seen Rico as the kid who'd be more into energetic punk rock music, especially since the music sounds all happy, but the lyrics talk about dark subjects. Well...some of them, anyway. I found it to be a coping mechanism for Rico, something to relate to; we all know how Jean treats her. Plus, since she's human, and not a frequently conditioned cyborg assassin serving him and the Social Welfare Agency, I feel that she'd be more aware to emotions, and feel things that most girls and boys would feel in her situation. She's still tolerant of his treatment of her, due to her optimistic nature, and focus on her relationships with Henrietta and others in her created circle. 
> 
> Am I right? Plus I feel as though that'd naturally come with her tomboyishness, and since she's not conditioned or anything, I believe she'd have a little bit of sassiness, spunk, and rebelliousness to her character, probably unconsciously passed onto her by Jean. (AND SHE'S NOT ALONE IN THAT AREA. JUST READ VOLUME 12 OF GSG.)
> 
> And yeah, the twenty øne piløts obsession would be a direct head-nod to my other GSG story on here, Sing Me A Canvas. I think it's worth a read. :)


	6. with everything ahead of us

Fourth period had two minutes left, and, like normal, the kids in Angelica's chemistry class were chatting away, ready to get some food in their stomachs, as lunch was, for most of them, their next period of the day. 

The 15-year-old sophomore would usually engage in socialization with her peers, seeing what was going on in their lives, or just anything that came up in her mind that she felt she needed to address, maybe with bringing up a reference or two to a chick-flick or new TV show on Netflix she'd recently watched.

That last one tended to happen rather frequently.

But, technically, Angelica  _was_ socializing...just, not face-to-face. Rather, it was face-to- _phone,_ as she was texting her new girlfriend, Fleccia, who was currently in geometry, and had texted her five minutes ago, wondering which table she sat at during lunch. Angelica had texted her saying she'd meet her by the 200 hall and take her to where she sat, knowing that it probably take a while for her the redhead to find her; she had admitted that she didn't know where to find things very well.

Not that it was a major issue, really. Fleccia was utterly perfect the way she was.

The bell rang, and everyone went for the door and out to wherever it was they were going, Angelica following suit, eager to find her girlfriend and introduce her to her friends. She hoped they all, especially Triela, the protective little princess, liked her, and that Fleccia was someone they could put their trust in, and maybe even be friends with.

Fleccia was really nice, in appearance and character. The girl had her auburn hair, shoulder-length that was in a gentle and perfect shade that perfectly complimented her shy but spunky personality, with a slight wave to it. And...and the most striking, yet surprisingly calming, soothing shade of jade green eyes, like the blades of grass she stepped on with her plain white cleats, as well as kicking a black-and-white, dirt-streaked, pentagon-patterned soccer ball with those slim yet powerful legs. 

And how could Angelica forget the cute  _freckles_ on her beautiful lady beau's face? They made her look so  _cute_ , so  _innocent._ Just like a little toddler...no, no...not  _that_ young...well...

They were perfect. Just like everything else about her. Everything that made the lovely, incredible human being named Fleccia Coscarelli,  _Fleccia Terry Coscarelli._

And  _wow,_ Angelica knew her middle name already.  _Freaky..._

Not a second later, she was internally squealing, the intensity of her feelings creating a warm fuzziness that crushed her chest...in a good way.

"So where the heck are  _you_ going?", she heard Triela ask from right next to her, the bronze-skinned girl snaking an arm around her shoulders, earning a gasp and surprised look from the raven-haired girl.

She was pretty sure her cheeks were turning pink too.  _Gosh dammit._

"J-just...going to the 200 hall to take Fleccia to our table", Angelica stammered.  _Good Lord. What is this, 7th grade?!_ "If that's okay with you."

Triela, thankfully, looked neutral, nodding her head.

"Okay", she ceded, "care if I tag along?"

She nodded, continuing on her way there, a playful comeback just out of her reach. 

"So guess what?", Triela asked conversationally, voice just a touch louder because of the others in the hallway. "You know when we were teasing Chiara about Tyler yesterday?"

Angelica thanked whatever God there was up in the sky for Triela being casual instead of asking a ton of nerve-wracking questions...although it wouldn't be that way in a little while.

"Yeah?"

"Last night...she lost her  _virginity_ to him!"

Angelica's eyes widened at her friend in shock.

" _Noooo_."

"Yuh-huh."

"Oh my  _god,_ that  _thirsty_   _child!_ ",Angelica squealed, covering her hands, not sure whether to be disgusted or happy. "Are you sure? Who told you?"

"Well...Nero snooped around her house..."

"Why am I not surprised."

" _And_ she Snapchatted me said incident."

" _Eeewww!_ "

" _No,_ not like that!  _Hell_ no. You think you wouldn't hear about her head being on a platter if she did?"

"Knowing Chiara", Angelica said, stopping by the wall by the 200 hall, "she'd figure out she had a pooper snooper by her house sooner than the likes of Daniel Booner. If she gets off of  _your_ hook, she's  _certainly_  getting _impaled_  off of her's."

Triela realized her point. "...yeah..."

"So what did our sweet little honey muffin say?", Angelica asked as she looked down the hall.

"So far, nothing", was the reply. "Like,  _literally_ nothing. But she had this... _dreamy_ look on her face...like she was thinking about Tyler and last night, you know?"

"Or she's daydreaming about how she's gonna dispose of Gatt and the burden that'll be lifted off of the world."

Triela snickered. "True."

And then.

In the crowd of boys and girls,  _the_ girl walks among them. She would seem to blend in with the others, but to Angelica, she could be picked out easily in a room of a hundred others. She stuck out like a sore thumb...but she was a pretty sore thumb...(urrrghh.)

Red hair with the wave, freckles, piercing jade green eyes, wearing a white and green long-sleeved shirt with the number 10, gray slacks, and gray and pink tennis shoes...in the slow-mo...

"Hey", she said, a slight smile playing on her perfect lips. 

And that was enough for the butterflies to set in, the angel choir to start 'ahh'-ing, and all things heavenly to break loose.

But that all disappeared in two snaps of Triela's fingers in front of her face. 

Realizing she was staring, Angelica went to thinking on her feet. 

"U-um...hi", she stuttered out. "S...sweetheart...what's...what's cracking?"

Fleccia's lips formed into a smirk. "My knuckles", she answered, demonstrating as such. " _That's_ what's cracking." She noticed Triela behind her with a side-glance. "Who's this?"

Angelica looked behind her, where Triela, who was loitering on the concrete brick wall with an unreadable expression. 

"Um, Fleccia", Angelica said with a little more confidence while pulling the tall blonde away from the wall. "This is Triela, she's my best friend, and has been since the second grade. Triela, this is Fleccia, my...my... _forever sweetie_."

"Hilshire?", Fleccia inquired, ignoring the beyond dorky term. 

"That would be me", answered Triela.

 _What?_ "You know her?", Angelica asked, surprise coating her tone. 

"No", replied the redhead. "...well, I know her _name_ , but not personally." Then, turning her attention to Triela, she asked, "Do you know Shaylee Tucker?"

"Yeah."

"She's on the school soccer team, too", Fleccia said. "She's one of my good friends, she told me all about that track meet you guys went to in Louisville."

"Oh really?", Triela inquired, interest clearly piqued. 

"Yeah, she said she got like, 2 medals or something, but I don't remember...but she did say you won 5 of those races or...whatever it is that you guys do."

"...girl", Triela started, chuckling.

"Hey guys, don't you think we should be getting to lunch?", Angelica cut off her friend before something started. "You know, instead of standing in the middle of the hallway like clueless dweebs?"

As if on cue, Triela's stomach growled in response, immediately earning a laugh out of all three girls.

"Yeah, I think that'd be a pretty good idea", the blonde answered with a stupid grin. 

The three then made their way to the cafeteria at the end of the bigger hallway, lovers hand-in-hand, the raven-haired one's chest feeling a lot lighter and free to allow oxygen to pass through as relief set in. She was happy that Triela and Fleccia seemed to be getting along and not creating a fire and taking turns pouring gasoline on it, just like she had hoped they would. 

But she wondered how long it would last, though. Chemistry was built, and they could probably prove to clash soon enough. Her best friend was planning on giving her sweetheart "the talk", but, knowing Triela and her last relationships, she wondered if hanging around the blonde was what got her latest ex to break up with her.

Because Triela scared them somewhat, not because they just didn't like her. 

When they reached the cafeteria, Angelica quickly located their table, which was close to the middle, but directed towards the second lunch line. She noticed Gattonero had taken a seat already, backpack tossed on top of the table, and was currently doing something on her phone. 

"So I'm gonna get ravioli, see you later", Triela called, racing at lightspeed for the nearest lunch line. 

Fleccia shot her girlfriend a curious look, to which she shrugged. The couple then made their way to the designated table in the packed cafeteria. 

"So...this is where we sit", said Angelica just as soon as they arrived at said table. 

"Okay", replied her beautiful girlfriend. "See ya in a little bit, I'm gonna get some food." She pecked Angelica on the lips and walked away to the second lunch line, while the raven-haired girl tried to pretend it didn't send butterflies into every cell of her body.

Gattonero noticed the girls's appearance, setting her phone down. " _Bro,_ Angelica!", she greeted in her boisterous way. "Didya see Chiara this mornin'?!"

"What did you do this time, Gattonero?", Angelica asked the tomboyish girl flatly, breaking out of her trance and taking a seat.

"What d'ya mean? I didn't do nothin', why I gotta do somethin' if I mention one'a my friends, man?"

"Uh, hello? Last night? It's a wonder you've survived Chiara's Beast-Mode for this long."

Gattonero smirked. "Ahhh, see that's the thing, ya gotta have some _serious_  ninja skills that pay all yer bills."

Angelica rolled her eyes. "I have a green belt in taekwondo, thank you very much. Plus, I don't know if you know this, but Chiara may not have pitch-trained ears, but she's got _hawk_ hearing levels. Which means the sounds of _coitus_ don't do _justice_ for hearing other things. I bet you she's gonna enact her plan on how she's gonna put you six feet under in a matter of minutes."

" _First_ of all", Gattonero cut in just after Angelica ceased talking, "Taekwondo ain't ninjistu, son. Second of all, I gots a _purple_ belt in that taekwondo biz. Third, obviously Chi-Chi don't have _that_  good'a hearin', cuz if she _did_ , she'd push her Goku offa her whilst tryna make a Gohan, and shoot her whole cartridge'a bullets in that firearm'a hers at me. I was up in a _tree_ , mind you, and I ain't good at dodgin' stuff up in those."

"I don't know", Angelica said, sing-song. "She gets angry, but she's a cunning little sneak when she wants to be, too. Remember Marcus and his left testicle?"

Gattonero winced and hissed in sympathy. "Who _don't_  remember that?"

"Anyways, Triela said she was smiling kinda weird today, which, if you think about it, isn't a really good sign."

"I guess so", Gattonero ceded, a bit too quickly. "The place was silent after I started down her roof. But I think, deep down inside that black soul'a hers, she love me, and'll forgive me...eventually. Just like I know you'll forgive me for stayin' under your bed and listenin' to ya lookin' at hentai."

"Wait... _what_?"

"Ya know, when you was crushin' hard on Fleccia and we started havin' all these sleepovers cuz'a my momma and Yarrow?"

"...what...you..."

"Was lookin' up anime porn? Yeah, you was lookin' at the girls, fantasizing you an' Fleeceea an' shit, while I was unda yer sleepin' place, cluein' in cuz I had nothin' else to do...plus, wasn't you stalkin' her social media and lookin' up rainbow vomit or whateva?"

Realization hit the raven-haired girl like a tidal wave. 

...

"What the FUCK, Gattonero?!", Angelica was screeching now. Her cheeks were for sure burning a furious pink, and everything was tinted a fire red. "Why the fuck were you doing that, like...how the fuck did you get under...just...WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"It kinda turned into an experiment afta that", continued a now sheepish Gattonero. "I went in, heard ya watch that wierd shit a couple times and wondered if ya would notice I was in ya sleepin' abode. Ya failed. Suprises me since ya ears shoulda been pitch-trained by now."

"AN EXPERIMENT WHAT THE FUCK?!" If Gattonero thought Angelica was angry now, she was seriously mistaken. 

Hell was gonna be brought to Earth in a matter of seconds.

"Yeah! Plus, you readin' lemons on Livejournal? Not only that but readin' 'em _out loud?!_ _Boy,_ you have it  _bad_ for that lady,  _shit!_ I even counted, your reads got to a staggerin' 26! You readin' The Milk Fic, too? Damn, Ange, and all these years I thought you was an innocent little Mary."

"JESUS, SHUT UP!", Angelica screamed, asclose to punching the smug little bitch square in the jaw and constricting her airflow as close as Chiara was to ending her life anyway. "Oh my God, I think I'm gonna be sick." She then made her way to the girl's bathroom, face burning hot and rivaling the sun, not caring the teeniest bit about the scene she caused. 

Once she reached her destination, she rushed into one of the empty stalls and sat on the toilet trying to quell her frayed nerves, but not doing the best job at it, as images of Gattonero snooping in her room, under her _bed_ , while she was doing... _personal_  things...started flashing in her mind. 

 _How could I not have known?! I had my ears pitch-trained at fucking orange belt, and Gatt's the most fidgety person ever, the ADHD bastard. What possessed that little_ bitch _to do that?! She shoulda kept that a secret for the sake of her life, her sanity, and her uter—_

She wanted nothing more in the world in that moment than the sweet release of death. But the next moment, she didn't think as such at all.

Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of someone crying in the next stall.

It was quiet, as if the girl didn't want anyone to hear her, but Angelica heard her alright. 

Someone needed help in here. She couldn't let her keep being sad in here. 

"Hello?", the raven-haired teen asked tentatively. 

Immediately, the girl emitted a sharp gasp of awareness that she wasn't alone. Angelica took this as a sign to continue. 

"Hey...so..." _Damn it, I'm no good at fixing these things!_  "What...what are you doing in here all upset? Not being nosy...well, I kinda am, but...", le sigh, "um...shouldn't you be eating in the cafeteria with your friends?"

That last comment seemed to make the girl more upset, as a loud sob was made from the other side of the stall wall. 

 _Real smooth, Angie_ , the sophomore shrewdly berated herself...or...was it _Triela_ that was doing so?! This voice in her head really sounded like her blonde friend. Did she suddenly gain psychic powers and telepathic communication?! Or did she have her friend's voice pre-recorded in her brain especially for moments like this?!

 _Okay, I've been watching way too many superhero cartoons with the Lane kids_ , Angelicathought, pretty much spooked now. 

 _Hey! Snap out of it!_ , the same voice barked inside her, not a moment too soon after another heart-wrenching sob was made from the other girl in the bathroom.

 _Note to self: binge-watch Pretty Little Liars with a bag of marshmallows after school_ , was Angelica's last coherent thought before sympathy took full control. 

"Hey hey hey, no, I didn't...I didn't mean that!", she spluttered, inwardly disgusted at how much of a _prep_  she sounded like before. "I...wasn't...I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry. I'm _really_ sorry."

And she was. She herself _hated_ it when girls came across that way when someone was really vulnerable like so. It was not only insensitive, but it really sounded like they wanted them to cry somewhere else where they didn't have to hear them.

It was a seriously nasty move of a Class-A jerkass, which she herself didn't strive to be.

"Hey, um...listen", she started again, some pieces of a glass lightbulb forming above her head. "Yeah, I'm _really_  sorry I said that...that was _really_ insensitve...not cool, um..."

_How in the hell do I put this?!_

"Listen, um...you don't have to tell me what's wrong, but...I don't like it when someone's crying, especially not by themselves all alone. Have you had lunch today?"

_Probably not, dummy. It's freaking 11:50-something, ya stupid._

"N-no", the girl managed to say, and though it was strained, Angelica caught what she said. 

_See?_

"I haven't either", admitted the sophomore, who still had her pink and green insulated lunchbox sitting at her table inside her backpack. She wondered what contents Gattonero had stolen out of it this time; though with a bruised jaw, chewing would kind of be hard for her to do. 

"Do you want to sit at my table with my friends?", Angelica asked the girl, making to get out of the stall she was in. "You don't have to, but...I don't think you should be by yourself in here on an empty stomach." She then made to wash her hands, though she didn't even use the toilet other than a seat.  

_Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes..._

There was silence behind her. 

But, as soon as Angelica went for the paper towel rack, there was shuffling forward behind the second door, and then the sound of a lock being pulled, and the white plastic door swung open, revealing the girl, and effectively turning Angelica's small reassuring smile into an open-mouthed expression of shock. 

The girl who was crying...was the brunette in Miss Tyler's class.

And her 7th period World History class.

Her eyes were red and puffy, and her face was a light tinge of pink. She was visibly shaking, breaths coming out in hysterical gasps. Her hands were at her chest, fingers twiddling tentatively as she lifted her gaze up to Angelica's.

"...Brown Hair?", she breathed, surprised. "Wh...what happened?"

Immediately, she regretted letting those innocuous words slip. 

_What the...?! You said she didn't have to say anything, what is WRONG with you?!_

"Rico", the girl shakily answered, not really seeming to mind the question. "She...she said...she had to go do something for...for a-another class...and that she wouldn't sit...sit by me at...at lunch..."

 _Social anxiety._ That's _what's going on here_ , Angelica concluded. She knew how  _that_ felt a little too well.

"And...and Claes...my friend Claes...she sorta got _mad_ at me on the bus this morning, and I don't know why--"

The bathroom door opened, bringing both girls to a start. Then, in stepped Triela, much to Angelica's relief. The blonde's gaze had locked onto Brown Hair's state really quickly, understanding why her friend was gone for a prolonged amount of time other than  _did you drown in the toilet, Angie?_

"What happened?", she asked, stepping forward. 

"Um..." _Darn it, short-term memory loss._ "Her friend's doing something in another class and she can't sit by her at lunch", the raven-haired teen rattled off, almost like a script for a play. "And apparently Claes snapped at her this morning."

"O...kay?" The response sounded confused, like Angelica was speaking a foreign language that Triela couldn't understand. "Why?"

"I don't know", was the honest reply. "She was kinda..." she paused to find an appropriate word, "...moody...pretty much all morning. 'Specially 2nd period. She was acting kinda..."

"Bitchy?", Triela supplied. "Yeah, but she gets that way when...you know..."

"Oh yeah. Forgot about that." 

The brunette next to her had hidden her face and let out a strangled sob.

"Hey hey hey, it's okay it's okay", Angelica tried to soothe the girl. "It's gonna be okay, just...just take some deep breaths, calm down."

Inwardly, she winced.  _Did I sound too harsh? Oh no. I said the wrong thing, didn't I?_

But the nod and smile Triela gave her told her otherwise. She turned her blue-eyed gaze to Brown Hair. 

"Hey, Henrietta", she said with a soft volume. "Try matching my breathing, okay? I'm gonna go in--", she demonstrated inhaling through her nose slowly, "and out." She then exhaled out through the mouth slowly. "Now you try. In..."

Henrietta...so  _that_ was her name...very pretty name...wasn't that also the name of that copper-colored coach always pulled by that square train...? What was his name?  _Ah,_ she couldn't remember. Anyways, Henrietta started to copy Triela's breathing pattern, shakily at first, but after a few moments it started to even out, and the tears and sniffling had ceased along with it.

As if on cue, the raven-haired teen was snapped out of her awe by both her stomach growling and her phone buzzing.

"Hey, you wanna come sit at our table?", Triela was asking the small brunette now. "Maybe get some lunch, too? You must be starving in here."

"...sure", was the meek response. 

Angelica could tell Triela was smiling too. "Okay, let's go." 

The three girls then made their way out of the bathroom and over to the table, where Fleccia sat alone (Gattonero had left at some point, thank GOD...but Fleccia was sitting all alone for all that time without her...) scrolling through her phone, though her attention had been brought up to the real world as soon as they were within an inch from taking their seats. Though Angelica wasn't sure if it was because of her hearing them coming toward the table or if she heard Triela offering... _what was her_ _name again?_ Well, she offered that girl the seat next to her. 

"Well there you are", she acknowledged. "Thought you were drowning, then Triela tried to save you, and then you both got sucked down into a sewer pipe."

"Eww", both girls replied simultaneously, with matching disgusted faces. 

"You know, why is it whenever someone takes too long in the bathroom, everybody's response is, ' _oh, I thought you drowned_ '?", Angelica asked without missing a beat. "Like, I know it's a joke, but I swear it's more overused than someone saying, 'I need some T to the fourth power Y'."

"By you", Triela quipped.

"By me", the raven-haired girl admitted. It was true; she overused that reference, and several others from several chick-flicks and dramas on FreeForm; it was amusing at first, but then it got old. Though it wasn't like she tried to annoy them. She just...you know...liked to bring up movie references...so much so that it became like a habit. Like her short-term memory loss. But last time she checked, she didn't frequently feel a little evil satisfaction at annoying her friends with her brain's lack of keeping her short-term memory in check. 

"Anyways", Angelica continued, "how exactly could a human drown in a toilet? The hole leading down to the sewers is pretty small.  _Nobody_ would fit in it. Even a  _baby_ can't fit in it...it'd fall in, sure, but drown? I'd think it'd be more of a bathtub for them than a vortex of doom."

"Yeah, but there's  _water_ in a toilet", Fleccia countered, "You could shove your face, or somebody else's face down the toilet, and hold it there until your brain stops getting oxygen and your blood stops circulating and then you die."

"Oh." Angelica didn't know whether to cringe or feel stupid...so she just lowered her eyes in embarrassment, hoping she wasn't. 

"what does 'T to the fourth power Y' mean?"

All three girls turned their attention to the source of the question. It had come from the brunette, obviously, but Angelica kinda hadn't expected her to say anything. It was a bit of a rash theory, but...here she was. Saying something.

"I'm sorry, what was that?", Triela asked, as if she couldn't comprehend it either. 

"I-I said...wh-what does 'T t-to the fourth power Y' mean?", the girl asked again, eyes downcast, yet raising the volume of her voice just a smidge. She must've thought they couldn't hear her, with how loud the cafeteria was with chattering students all around enjoying their second meal of the day, though they could. Triela probably didn't...there was the possibility...but _she_ did. 

"Um...it's uh...just a reference to a movie", Angelica answered lightly. "It's called 'Not Another Teen Movie'." 

"Oh...I don't watch TV that much", the girl confessed. "Jose says it rots the brain."

 _That guy sounds like a hippie,_ Angelica didn't say. She just nodded in understanding instead. 

"Hey, what's your name?", she asked innocently. Then, bashfully, she confessed, "Sorry...I suffer from short-term memory loss, I forget things really easily...you're gonna have to repeat it a few times so it sticks."

The girl looked at her for a moment, as if she wasn't sure if she should. 

"Hen...Henrietta", she said. 

"Henrietta", she said with a smile, warmth bubbling up in her chest. "Hey...hi. My name's Angelica, though you...probably already knew that...", she giggled, "this is Triela, and this is Fleccia." She giggled again. "She's my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?", Henrietta inquired. 

Angelica wrapped her arms around Fleccia protectively, cheek pressing against her covered shoulder in a manner of discomfort.

"Yeah", Fleccia replied, tone strangely clipped now, her defensive walls creeping in. "My girlfriend."

"If you've got a problem with that--", Triela began warningly. 

"Everyone's different", Angelica cut in, pacifying, leaning her head on top of Angelica's. "There's guys who date guys, and girls who date girls. Things aren't as...conservative as they were, nowadays. They're just like a typical heterosexual couple, happy and all. Just like me and Fleccia here. We're cool."

 _God, Fleccia is so perfect! Why would anyone hate her or our relationship?!,_ she thought.  _Please approve, please approve, please approve..._

"Oh. O-okay", Henrietta ceded, eyes going down again. "I-I'm just...not used to seeing stuff like that..."

"Hey, it's cool", Angelica said. "You didn't know. But now you do. It's the same with everybody else. For example, I just realized your name's the same as some breakvan thingy off of Thomas the Tank Engine."

Fleccia's eyes widened. "I was  _just_ gonna say that!"

"Guys, _really?_ ", Triela groaned, probably wondering why her friends were such  _dorks_ right about now. 

"Really?", Brown Hair...no, Henrietta...inquired. 

"Yeah! Although, she doesn't really do much, she just...ah, she's a coach that's pulled around a lot by...what was his name again...?"

"Toby?", Fleccia supplied. 

" _That's_ his name!", Angelica exclaimed. "I thought it was  _Percy,_ but then I realized he's green, and the one pulling Henrietta was brown and square-shaped."

"They do this a lot", Triela remarked to Henrietta, leaning towards her direction. "I've never understood what is so fascinating about a show involving trains with faces just doing jobs and getting in trouble."

"Oh shut it, Tree!", Angelica interjected. "As I recall, you still haven't outgrown your SpongeBob phase yet!"

" _Angelica--_ "

"If I'm honest, I haven't either", Fleccia admitted with a laugh. "I'm still in that one, and my Phineas and Ferb obsession's still here." She then took off her shoe and lifted her foot to the table to show the girls her sock, which had Perry the Platypus on it. 

"I-I've seen that before!", Henrietta said in astonishment. "I-I've been around the t-toy section at Walmart and seen t-toys with him on the box!"

"Perry's my favorite character", Fleccia admitted. "He's really cool."

"I've always liked Carl for some reason", Angelica added. "I don't know, he's cute but he's so awkward..."

"He deserves more credit!", Triela chimed in. "Why do you think he went all dark-side?!"

"Because he was  _mind-controlled_."

"Yeah, he was mind-controlled", Fleccia chimed in.

"...I knew that."

"S-sounds cool", Henrietta said, clearly forcing herself to look at least one girl in the eye. "The-the show, I mean. I mean...I  _have_ watched some stuff...but...but most of them a-are Disney movies."

"Oh really?", Triela inquired. "Which ones?"

"M-mostly...princess ones." A light blush was dusting the brunette's cheeks now.

"Oh cool, me too! Whose your favorite one?"

"Snow White...?"

Triela's smile widened. " _Really?!_ She's mine too!"

Now Henrietta was smiling. "She's so nice and s-sweet...I love that she loves all the animals and she's got such a pretty dress..."

"I love the dwarves, too", Triela added. "They're all funny, but I love Dopey the most."

"Yeah, I like the dwarves too! It's not called Snow White and the Seven Dwarves for nothing!"

"True."

"I like some Disney princesses too, to be honest", Fleccia chimed in. "But I can't decide between Belle and Ariel being my favorite."

"Princess Leia's  _my_ favorite", Angelica added. 

And then, cue the awkward silence. 

"Angie, Princess Leia isn't Disney", Fleccia said.

"Yeah she is", Angelica countered. "Now, at least. Disney owns all things Star Wars now, remember?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Yeah,  _but,_ remember Maleficent? That wasn't animated, and neither were _any_ of the Star Wars saga movies, last time I checked."

" _Angelica--_ "

Triela tensed under Fleccia's warning tone; not with fear... _god_ no...but out of being ready to pounce and be the protective mom she tended to be. Quickly, Angelica noticed, and shot her BFF a look that passed for a 'easy, girl'. 

"Hey...", Henrietta spoke up shyly. "Hey...who's Princess Leia?"

Angelica's eyes widened, jaw metaphorically hitting the table in shock.

_This girl needs to get out more._

* * *

Now...7th period. She _really_ hated this class.

Well, she hated all of her classes equally, but if one felt as though their world was spinning while their stomach was doing flips, and as a cherry on top of that mess, their nose had a nasty, swelling bruise on their sniffer, they'd hate their classes even more, especially the ones that seemed to drag on for what seemed like  _hours._

But  _that_ was just the  _beginning_ of it. 

After that lovely encounter with Mr. Floyd Mayweather wannabe and his yes-men yesterday afternoon, Elsa  _had_ planned on taking a stroll through what she called Paradise, but on her way there, she started to feel dizzy. Like,  _really_ dizzy.  _So_ dizzy she was basically staggering and feeling the need to vomit on the side of the road. 

And Elsa knew better than to walk around that way in public. Although she hated the place she lived in almost as much as the time forcefully wasted around those four teenage _c_ _ucks..._ she went home, and laid in bed nursing what she was pretty sure was a concussion, with the lights off, staring at the ceiling and memorizing the dents in it, music cranked up to the max, trying not to fall asleep no matter how much she wanted to escape the throbbing pain in her skull and nose that hadn't left, even after going to sleep late into the night. 

At least Lauro had let her be for the evening, especially with her ears ringing louder than the school bell she heard every forty-five minutes five days a week. That way she could try to get over it in some semblance of peace. How ironic it was that she was actually grateful for his neglectful attitude towards her for this single instance. 

And also how _weird_ it was that she didn't wake up after falling asleep. With symptoms of what was most likely a concussion--ringing ears, dizziness, pain in her head, fatigue...shouldn't she be dead, considering that tended to happen when one fell asleep with those going on? (Her mom was an RN, before she herself got sick and  _died,_ _leaving_ her with a cold, emotionally distant and alcoholic excuse for an uncle. She did pick up on some medical stuff.)

It wasn't that Elsa  _wanted_ to die...she certainly wanted to get away from all the shit life was choosing to give to her, sure. She wanted someone's shoulder to lean on sometimes, but she  _certainly_ wasn't going to tell anyone that; everyone, even people whom she  _thought_ she could  _trust,_ took sharp knives in their hands, stabbed her back with them, twisted it a few times, dropped the blood-stained silver blade, and left her alone, biting dust in some dark, hollow corner with nothing but  _more_ shit and depressing thoughts as company. 

That clusterfuck of all of these things prevented her from living. 

Elsa wasn't living. She hadn't been alive since she was 12 years old. She just... _existed._

And she hated that rather frequently. 

"C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G SONG! C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G SONG!"

Elsa was rudely snapped out of her haze by the sound of Angelica Toni boisterously belting out the "Campfire Song Song" from SpongeBob (?) as she waltzed into the classroom, while Triela Hilshire sang along right along with her in the same volume from right behind her. A few steps behind her, Claes Johannson walked in, looking like the textbook definition of long-suffering, that blonde kid with the repulsive haircut just two steps in front of her, obviously enthralled judging by her mouth being slightly agape and shaped in a grin. Their brunette companion had a hand over her mouth--under it, she was smiling like a loon and trying to rein in her giggling. 

She gripped her head in pain, squinting her eyelids closed tightly. Yet she didn't emit a sound. She wouldn't give whoever was lurking in the metaphorical shadows for someone to drag further down the pit of hell any satisfaction. Not today, at least. 

But what those idiots were doing was  _not_ doing any good on her head. 

"C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G SONG!", both girls continued to sing the children's song without giving a flying fuck (off-key, might Elsa add?). Angelica then pointed over to Triela in a way that said 'take it away'. "PATRICK!"

"SONG! C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E--", Triela hurriedly, yet excitedly yelled out. 

"SQUIDWARD!", both girls exclaimed, pointing at Claes, clearly wanting her to join in. But all that bookworm did was let out an annoyed grunt and walk past them to her seat. But both girls didn't seem to care, just shouting out, "GOOD!" in response. 

Elsa snorted, despite herself. She had seen that particular episode quite a few times (she was a SpongeBob fan when she was younger); she knew that song pretty well enough to know a lack of response other than a petulant scowl from the grumpy octopus named Squidward Tentacles was kinda how the song went anyway, whether Claes intended to play along or not. (Though it was most likely the latter.) As a plus, it may be causing the pain in her concussion to get worse, but the display of happiness that Angelica and Triela were showing off without a care about where they were and who was watching...

...it was amusing. 

_Wait...what?_

Both girls were at the front of the room now, shoulder to shoulder, crinkled eyes locked onto each other, hands gesturing out, like they were doing some stage performance instead of making fools of themselves in their 7th period World History class. 

"IT'LL HEEEEEEELLLLLLP!", they belted out, "IT'LL HEEEEEEEEEELLLLLP, IF YOU JUST SING ALOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNGGGG!!"

At this point, the blonde and brunette by the door were in stitches as they watched. In fact, the whole class was looking now, some amused, some annoyed and telling them to shut the hell up. And one apathetic B-Bot, who walked in the door just in time for the big finish. 

Angelica and Triela jumped up in the air, landing on their feet in a crouch, Angelica in the dabbing position, Triela in a position a 90s grunge singer would make on stage. (It would look awesome to her, but in truth, it looked cringe-worthy.)

"OH YEEEEAAAAH!", they screamed. A split second later, both girls collapsed into hysterical laughter, high-fiving and heading to their seats, smiling at each other and chit-chatting, while Beatrice walked over to hers, and Elsa could swear she could see a flicker of confusion in the brunette's usually stony blue eyes. 

For a second, she thought she saw Lance head towards Triela's desk, looking like he was going to  _attack_ her. But it didn't happen. He  _did_ end up greeting the nonbinary blonde, who walked over to his desk and started talking to him, with one of his...ahem..." _heart-stopping_ "...toothy smiles. 

All that set some sort of fire inside Elsa. Something that definitely felt protective, ready to strike like a starved lion ready to sink its teeth into some meaty antelope. 

And that felt... _weird._  Elsa never really cared about Triela; they weren't really friends. And she  _certainly_ didn't care about that short, air-headed blondie. She didn't even  _know_ her, nor did she control who she hung around with. She was going to be working with that prick for two weeks on this project, and was certainly in cahoots with him since before then. 

Oh wait...

Oh shit...

The  _project..._

The bell rang, and Mr. Nap-Inducer walked in, a few papers in hand, closing the door behind him and going over to his desk to get things started. 

"All right adolescents, please get quiet so I can get attendance down", was his first instruction. 

They kinda did, which Elsa had to give credit for. They normally got louder; and when she meant "they", she meant Lance. Mostly Lance, anyway. 

A few minutes later, the bespectacled brunette teacher got up and went to the podium. "All right guys", was the beginning of his second instruction. "Today, we are going to start our projects on the First Triumvirate." He gestured behind the desks. "There's some poster boards in the required size if you need it", then he gestured to the cart holding several MacBooks and chargers, "and of course, there are laptops here, and chargers, if the one you choose needs some juice. You guys can move the desks around to work alongside your partners, but I expect the desks to be put back where they were originally at the end of class. I also expect you guys to work quietly, you can talk, just keep the volume down, and...yeah, that about covers it. Get to work."

The students went into a frenzy, a few of them going for the poster boards laying on a long rectangular desk in the back of the room, while several more went for the laptops (of freaking course...not that she was judging, that was kinda, albeit reluctantly, her plan anyway), then sat back down and started to work on the project at hand. 

Elsa abruptly got out of her seat and headed to the black metal cart. She was just about to reach for a laptop when she bumped into someone. Or rather,  _that_ imbecile decided to bump into her to be cool. 

That imbecile happened to be Triela, who _was_ looking at her like a mother about to lecture a child for a brief second (bleh), before it turned into something akin to...

...concern. 

Which made no sense. Why would  _anybody_ be concerned about someone like _her?_

"What happened there?", the tanned blonde asked, tone dipped in the unnecessary emotion. 

"What does it matter to _you?_ ", she snapped. 

Triela put her hands up in a pacifying gesture, but by the narrowing of her eyes it was anything but genuine. "Sor _ry._ Normally, people would care even if an asshole had a shiner on their nose. But that's not the reason why I'm talking to you, Ice Queen."

"What do you want?"

"Henrietta, your partner", the taller girl replied. "She's a very sweet girl, and she's still new around here."

"I think I got the memo", Elsa snapped. She knew what this was...

"Yeah, I did too." The sophomore leaned forward, eyes daring the freshman to disobey what she was about to say next. 

"And I would suggest you keep your  _attitude_ down to a minimum around her...if you want things to go easier."

Elsa found herself wondering why she ever thought this girl was somewhat trustworthy...she was showing her true colors in front of her, and she didn't need to get close to her. The petty threats, the protectiveness...it was like yesterday afternoon. 

And  _easy?_ Since when had her life  _ever_ been easy? 

But this time, there was a condition to it. She be nice to the brunette working with her, or Triela take her to pound town, which she didn't doubt could possibly happen. But, knowing how this went, it would happen anyway. So why even try, right? 

But then again...

The girl didn't appear to be able to even harm a fly. She looked pretty in her lightweight dark brown jacket and simple ugly green thigh-length dress and shin-high brown stockings, and _oh my god are those_   _low heels?_ She just wanted a place to sit on the bus, nothing more. She didn't even  _know_ who Elsa was, let alone who anyone who went through 7 1/2 hours of hell in this shithole was. 

But that's what everyone else would think, before they  _did_ know her. 

"Elsa."

"Yeah? What?!" The blonde was snapped out of her haze by Triela, who was still staring at her, wanting her word. 

"I said I suggest you keep that temper of yours to a minimum around Henrietta", ordered Triela. "Or there's going to be some serious problems between you and me. Do I make myself clear?"

It would've happened anyway, but Elsa wasn't in the mood for this shit. It wasn't submission if you knew it was coming, right? Maybe not from the one threatening to put a fist to her face, but still. 

She heaved a heavy sigh. "Yes, _ma'am_ ", she said sarcastically. "No harm will come to your friend."

Triela didn't seem satisfied with the answer, but she did leave her alone, after bidding her a tense, "I'm warning you", with a finger to her chest.

"I know you are, I heard you!", Elsa bit out, raising her voice a little and scooping up a laptop. "It's not like I'm deaf", she muttered.  _Although I_ _wish I was sometimes,_ she didn't say as she walked over to Henrietta's desk near the door. 

The smaller girl was quick to notice her presence, brown eyes going wide and mouth going slightly agape as she stared.

Elsa's gaze was cold, one that wasn't too pleased about what they were about to do. 

Both girls stared at each other like that for a moment too long, before Elsa broke the eye contact by setting down the laptop and opening it up. 

"Quit staring at me and get over here so we can work", the blonde snapped. Or...she  _thought_ she did. The tone wasn't as sharp as she would've liked it to be.

"Ah! Um...u-um...okay then", the girl stuttered, moving to the left side of her desk and pushing it forwards just a little before taking her seat while Elsa logged in and clicked on the Keynote icon close to the end of the dock. She was then greeted by the 'Welcome to Keynote' pop-up, which she quickly clicked through and got out of. Two seconds later, the template choice window popped up. 

"W-wait", she heard Henrietta stutter out. 

"What?", asked Elsa sharply. 

Henrietta flinched under her tone and started fidgeting with her hands. "T-there was a..."

"Spit it out, kid", Elsa huffed impatiently. 

"There was a...a pop-up...on-on what to do", the brunette squeaked. "Shouldn't...shouldn't we have...read through it?"

Elsa wanted to scream. She wanted to scream bloody murder and tear the walls off this classroom and run at lightspeed somewhere a long way out of here, like...like...Canada, she didn't know. 

Kinda like this midget next to her didn't know how to work on a MacBook and its applications, unlike her. 

_...shut up!_

"...Listen", she said. "I know what I'm doing. I've used this a hundred times, so don't go bitching and moaning that I can't do this without reading instructions twenty times to get it right. Or you can get lost. Or I can get lost... _whichever_ works, just _shut up._ "

And  _wow,_ that felt strangely personal to say. She probably shouldn't have said anything; Henrietta could probably pick up on that and use it against her. She didn't know why she was acting so sweet and innocent, especially around someone like her who had more prickly thorns to make every cactus jealous.

It would be better if she just dropped the fake friendly act already. If anything, she just wanted the cold, dead, _fucking_ truth from her on a silver metal platter. 

However, her assigned partner just stared at her for a moment, eyes filled with something that wasn't quite hurt, before turning her gaze to the laptop screen, still nervously wringing her hands. 

"Which template do you want?", the blonde found herself briskly asking next. 

 _What the ever-loving_ hell _did I just say?!,_ she thought to herself, more alarmed than harsh. 

Henrietta's eyes slowly moved to meet hers, surprise at the question and lingering unease inside of them. "W-What?", she asked in a small voice, as if she didn't understand the question. 

 _Take it back, Elsa, take it back!,_  Elsa's messed up head was screaming. _No wait...you can't take_ anything _back, just...say never mind! Drop it! Pretend you didn't say anything, even! Just change the subject, dammit!_

"Which. Template. Do you want?", she asked slowly with an edge instead, gesturing to the Keynote window, where several choices of templates were shown. 

The brunette looked over at the options on the screen, thinking over what she wanted their project to look like, while clearly shocked at the not quite friendly behavior Elsa displayed. 

 _If only she knew she wasn't alone in that thought,_ the blonde thought. 

"That...that one", she heard Henrietta answer. 

It was surprising that she also managed to see the brunette's index finger pointing to a template at the bottom third row, which had a cream-colored outside with the words 'My Presentation' written in gray, while a photo of some kind of arch-shaped rock above blue water covered the majority of the slide. She clicked on it, the pop-up window automatically bumping down just a little, the words 'Cream Paper' under it and highlighted in blue. Elsa clicked on it again, and a split-second later the window went away and was replaced with a larger one, the first slide of the girls' presentation taking up the large majority, a dock displaying the slides on the left, and their tweaking options on the right. 

The words 'double click to edit' were inside two long text boxes, one larger, one smaller. Elsa double-clicked the bigger box, and typed in the word 'Project', then typed in 'By Elsa and Henrietta' in the bottom box. She then touched the trackpad with her index finger with the lightest of touches, using the touch-sensitive metal square to move the arrowed cursor to the 'Add Slide' button just below the three traffic light colored buttons, producing a number of choices for the next slide, and was about to click on the slide that had the words, 'Title, Bullets, and Photo' under it, when...

"S-shouldn't we have a...", Henrietta started to say, but faltered instead. 

"What now?", Elsa asked, rolling her eyes with the same amount of annoyance her tone gave off.

"N-never mind", the brunette backpedaled, eyes going downcast. 

_Well then._

Elsa continued on the task at hand, adding slides and titles to the presentation almost as if she were an airplane on autopilot. She knew they needed at least 11 or 12 slides total, and that research obviously needed to be done. She didn't keep notes, but there was Google, as well as there was Wikipedia. And it was trained into her to get that and the project done as quickly as was possible. She wasn't a procrastinator in the past, per se...she just...took more time to mess around with her friends, while keeping work as a priority. 

But those days were long past over. She really had nothing else to do other than get through her assignments. Even...even  _partner_ assignments. Elsa wasn't a supporter of 'work first, play later', even if her life now felt like all work and no play, but she'd rather get stuff done first so she'd have something to keep her from metaphorically drowning inside her less than catastrophic shit...even though just recently, she honestly felt like that guy Hades made roll a boulder up a hill, only to be rolled down to the bottom with the boulder, and having to repeat the process for all eternity. 

But wasn't that how the typical teenager felt? It was just part of being tired from waking up at some ungodly hour to go through 7 1/2 hours of the same thing 5 days a week...right? Besides, her life wasn't as bad as she sometimes made it out to be. There were kids her age in the Middle East who were running away from their own nation because their rulers, who were supposed to protect their rights and liberty, thought brute force and dictatorship were the way to exercise their power. Those citizens didn't even have any home, as they basically looked like something one would find in a post-apocolyptic-style video game...but more  _real._

But...wasn't that kind of what she was going through? But just, in a more...more tamer _..._ scenario...?

...

 _NO! What the FUCK?! What. The actual. FUCK, are you_ thinking?! _How_ DARE _you compare yourself to the likes of those who have it harder!_ How. DARE YOU!

 _How could you_ possibly _be this thick-headed?!_ Daring _to compare your own selfish "problems" with those who actually_ have _conflicts?! To those who are on the verge of_ death, _while you actually have a house, and a phone, which isn't even_ yours, _to begin with, and a school to attend?! You still got your life too, mind you!_

_...But isn't my life not even worth living?_

"...Elsa?", asked Henrietta, innocently waving a hand in front of her face.

At this moment, the blonde was roughly brought out of her haze with a sharp gasp. She was aware that she had unintentionally created more slides that was required, all while her head was focusing its attention on something entirely different, which would normally make the average Joe stop what they were doing and enter a daydreaming state. 

But she wasn't the average Joe. 

She was worse than that. She was merely a worthless, pathetic excuse for a human being who was having hell brought to her. And for what? Oh yeah, for having her mom die. That's right. 

And she deserved every bit of what she was getting. No matter how much it irritated her to the point of losing her shit, no matter how much she wanted to scream bloody murder and curse whatever was up above the clouds...she was getting what was coming to her. Simple as that. 

But goddamn, if it didn't fucking  _hurt._

She was aware of a painful lump setting right in her jugular, and her green eyes burning with an all-too familiar salt water.

 _Oh_ shit, _not this,_ a very small, yet somewhat sane part of her fucked-up head groaned.  _Really? So much for tough guy._

"Elsa?", Henrietta inquired again, that uneasy timidity still there. "Are you okay?"

 _Yeah, midget. I'm just sweating through my eyes,_ she wanted to sarcastically reply. The shorter girl didn't look like she could understand sarcasm, but looks could be very,  _very_ deceiving. Elsa knew this all too well. And she also knew either way, admitting she wasn't okay, or being sarcastic, it'd be a dead giveaway that she in fact  _wasn't_ okay, unable to do  _anything_ correctly to have anybody  _stay._

Anybody...even her own  _mother._

She furiously rubbed at her eyes with her coat sleeve, refusing to let her unshed tears fall and let  _anybody_ know of her utter weakness so she could be an easier target than she already was. But in the process of doing so, she had rubbed her bruised nose, the small piece of bony flesh and cartilage flaring up in pain at the contact, causing its owner to emit a not so subtle hiss of pain.

"W...What happened to your nose?", Henrietta asked after a short period of silence. "D-Does it hurt any?"

She was clearly trying to choose her words carefully. 

But they weren't treading lightly. 

She had just dropped into a steaming pot of water with the intrusion. She just couldn't keep her mouth shut, _could_ she? 

It wasn't in that _fucker's_ capability, apparently.

She was against her too, it seemed like. She thought of her like a bacteria sample under a microscope, something she could poke and prod at under a beam of light, while she was to play victim and endure every single bite-sized  _bit of it._

_No._

**_NO._ **

She slammed her fist on the desk.  _Hard._ And stood up. 

"What the  _fuck_ does it matter to you?!", Elsa shouted, gaining the full attention of pretty much everyone in the class. She could feel their eyes piercing her back like knives, the same knives her  _friends_ used to  _backstab_ her, used to  _twist_ it in there and sever some muscle while they were at it, and leave her to  _bleed_ on the side of the road. The very memories, and the ones buried deep underground, rose up and fueled her rage more. 

"Hey!", Mr. Napier shouted. "We don't speak to each other like that!"

"SHUT UP!", the blonde screeched, slamming her fist on the desk again. 

" _Excuse_ me?", her teacher inquired, genuinely shocked by her outburst. 

"You heard me!", barked Elsa. "Send me to ISS for all I care! I don't give a shit! DO IT!"

"Okay then, if that's how it's going to be", Mr. Napier conceded, pulling out a pink piece of paper from a folder on his desk next to the computer.

She turned her attention back to Henrietta, not giving a single shit about everyone else. Some where "oooohhh"-ing, some were smiling in awe, some were bitching at her that it wasn't okay to do what she was doing...

...the primary focus of her attention was the absolute  _cunt_ who  _dared_ to tread on thin ice, thinking she could get to the other side safely without the ice breaking, sending her sinking to the salty blue water below it. 

That water was lava now, and she was going to _burn_ in it. 

"You must think it's _real_ funny to barge into other people's business", she sneered venomously at the petrified girl below her. Her chocolate brown eyes were filled with terrified tears, and she was shaking with pure, unadulterated fear.  _Good._ "You must think it's the coolest thing in the world to know every single shitty thing about this hellhole's infamous  _runt,_ right?"

"Well guess what, _dick twitch?!_ IT'S NOT!", she bellowed. "And it's _NOT_ funny to show how coolyou can be, by getting on my every last nerve in any single way your shitty bitch-ass can!"

As if on cue, not a moment too soon, Henrietta broke down in her tears. 

"Funny thing, since _everything_  anyone does gets on your nerves", Lance said, a smile on his face, though it was less than friendly. " _You're_ the bully here, making that sweet little thing cry--"

"Lance, please", Mr. Napier tried pacifying, going over to Elsa with the pink slip. "Let's not add gasoline to the fire."

 _Too late,_ Jeeves,Elsa said inside her head. 

She stalked over towards Lance, eyes narrowed and face burning hotter than the flames of hell.

"YOU'RE SO FULL OF  _SHIT,_ LANCE!", she yelled hotly. She pointed to the bruise on her nose. " _YOU'RE_ THE ASSHOLE WHO GAVE THIS TO ME, YOU SELF-RIGHTEOUS MOTHERFUCKER!" 

"Lance would  _never_ do that!", his blonde partner protested. 

"Elsa! Office, now!", Mr. Napier tried shouting to get her attention in vain. 

"Spreadin' lies 'bout me won't get you nowhere", Lance sneered. "You don't have  _shit_ on  _me,_ girlie. A lying, manipulative bully is all you'll ever be."

" _I'M THE BULLY?!"_ , Elsa was full on screaming now. " _I'LL_ FUCKING SHOW YOU  _BULLY--_ "

Elsa was about to lunge straight at him, but she was grabbed by her World History teacher, and restrained, as he yelled at her to chill out as the students looked on and started shouting random things, all the while Elsa struggled and fought under her teacher's surprisingly tight iron grip, spewing the worst obscenities at Lance that she could think of, who said nothing and stood his ground. 

The blonde was then aware of her being pulled towards the hall, and probably over to the office, if her teacher so desired. 

She continued kicking and squirming, screaming insults on the way, trying her damnedest to get away and give the very boy who made her days at school a living hell the very same tortures she had endured, and make it worthwhile. She wanted to find Soni, Gavin, and Maria, and give them the same tortures, show them how _shitty_ they were. She wanted to rip all four shitheads's throats out, and beat their faces in senseless with their windpipes. 

But alas, there was not a way out of this one. 

Especially when Elsa knew deep down, she deserved it.

And her angry interference was going to add more problems in the too-near future. 

"FUCK YOU!", she screamed as soon as the door closed. "FUCK YOU IN YOUR TWO-INCH DICK, LANCE! I WILL FUCKING END YOUR SHIITY LIFE, DO YOU HEAR ME?! I. WILL. END YOU!"

* * *

The classroom was now in a state of pandemonium. Every single person was talking, wondering what exactly happened, what could've possibly made Elsa de Sica go off on Lance Maynard the way she did...a few in shock of what both parties said, sharing a few laughs. 

The latter reaction Beatrice 100% didn't understand. What was so funny about a girl with a less than impressionable reputation making her partner for an assignment cry, and was almost about to fight another student, who was  _clearly_ stronger and more agile than her, and threatening to end his life? 

True, the brunette had heard some less than impressionable things on the football player, particularly from both Triela and Claes, but Beatrice held the strong belief that nobody,  _nobody,_ should have their life threatened, under any circumstance. She didn't think she could kill anybody who came to threaten hers or her uncle Bernardo's life, or Claes's, or...anyone else she became acquainted with, for that matter. She would at least _try_ to give them a reason to regret ever doing it; and by try, she meant passively. Even though something as dangerous as that would be the equivalent of striking a match and starting a small flame that would eventually grow into a _slightly_ bigger one. 

Triela, her partner for the 2-week period to complete the project on the First Triumvirate, felt something akin to what she was feeling, but more intense. She looked like she was ready to pounce on Elsa, knock her upside the head and give her a piece of her mind, especially since she gave her some sort of talk by the computer cart some few minutes ago. Angelica Toni, Triela's best friend, seemed pretty trigger-happy herself, as was Claes, her assigned partner. 

What was done was done, however. Mr. Napier was dealing with the situation pretty well out there...well...with the help of a few others who came out into the hall wondering what the cause was for all the commotion. Besides, it really wasn't something students needed to take into their own hands, especially with how... _drastic,_ the results of said measures would bring.

Right now though, that wasn't what was important. 

What was important right this very moment was amending the fallout. 

Triela, Angelica, Claes, and a few others in the classroom, including a blonde, blue-eyed girl with a hime-style haircut in her Biology class--Rico, she learned her name was from a concerned-centered, if not protective, rant Triela went off on in AVID--went over to the distressed brunette girl's desk--she learned her name was Henrietta in that rant--in concern for her wellbeing. Beatrice followed them, feeling the same way with a dash of curiosity. 

Some of her peers were not unkindly waved off by Triela and Claes, both girls declaring the situation under their control, but allowing Angelica and Rico to stay...though Lance stayed a good distance away from the scene, talking with a few other students seated close by. 

She didn't know why--Lance didn't really do anything wrong--but him standing there like that, looking at what was happening a good three feet away from him...

...it set a sort uneasy feeling inside her. 

"You okay?", she asked the girl carefully. Her face was hidden in her sleeved arms, bent over crying over the cool gray desk. 

She obviously _wasn't_ okay. Such a stupid question to ask. Though she would be later on. 

"She will be", Claes said, like she was reading the freshman's mind. 

And she would be. 

"W- _why_ _?_ ", the poor girl wailed, the sound somewhat muffled. "I-I just...I didn't  _do_ _anything_...!"

"Shh, shhh", Triela tried shushing Henrietta soothingly, kneeling down so she was at eye-level with her. "No...no you didn't do anything wrong."

"She's just an antisocial prick", Angelica chimed in, an obvious edge in her voice, though it wasn't directed at the brunette. "She hates _everyone_ who's even  _remotely_ near her, minding their own business,  _not_ planning on messing with her."

Angelica had only been attending Woodland Heights for two days, but she acquainted with the school even before she attended it. She had friends she made here and hung around the campus a couple times, whether it be an event one of her friends was in and she was there supporting them, extracurricular activity she herself was partaking in, or some gossip and/or rants that Triela or another one of her several friends on the place, she had a pretty good idea of what Woodland Heights High was like compared to Cedar Canyon High. That included some of the peers, including a certain Elsa de Sica, whom she actually had met before coming to attend school here for her sophomore year. 

So Beatrice couldn't really disagree. Especially since she  _agreed_ with her...at least...to an extent...

"You tell her, girlfriend ", Lance cajoled, adding himself to the conversation. "Yeah. She just a mean, nasty  _bitch,_ that girl is."

"Hey, how about you butt out?", was the raven-haired girl's flat reply, though she appeared to regret saying it, gray eyes finding one of her denim jacket's buttons interesting. "We have it handled", was the less confident supporting comment.

"Hey, leave him alone!", Rico protested, sidling just a little closer to the football player. "He's just trying to help out, he didn't do anything wrong!"

"Let's...not fight right now", Claes cut in, using a voice of a long-suffering mother, raising her hands up in a pacifying gesture. "Not when this..." She gestured to Henrietta, who was still crying next to her, Triela trying to calm her down. 

The intercom went off with its three staccato, mechanical-sounding beeps, grabbing all of their attention.

"Teachers, pardon this interruption", Principal Winchester's voice spoke up everywhere in the building, "at this time, all football players need to head down to the auditorium. All football players need to head down to the auditorium at this time. Thank you."

" _Wooo!_ That's my time to  _go_ ", was Lance's rather boisterous reaction. He ruffled Rico's hair as he shuffled out to the door as he bid her a "See ya later, bitch". 

But the rude term wasn't the most appalling. No, the most appalling thing was that Rico just merely giggled, like the term "bitch" was a compliment, not an insult. 

 _Does she have a crush on that boy?,_ Beatrice wondered. She kinda hoped not, though she couldn't control who she could and couldn't be around and have feelings for. 

"Shh, shh, it's okay", Triela continued to soothe Henrietta. "Shh...try to match my breathing, yeah?" The blonde demonstrated, and the brunette shakily tried to copy. 

"I'm sorry, Henrietta", Rico apologized, stricken at the state of her friend. She put a hand on her friend's back as she slowly sat up normally. "Really, I...she--"

"It's alright", her friend said, voice cracking. "You didn't do anything wrong, don't...don't apologize..."

"Hey, it's okay, Henrietta", Triela continued her consoling as Henrietta's composure started to slip. "It's okay, it's over. Elsa's in the office right now, and the principal's going to deal with her, okay? She's not gonna yell at you anymore, I promise." Beatrice could've sworn the blonde muttered a "Not if I can help it" under her breath.

"I should've known Elsa would do that." Rico's tone and expression were ones of guilt and self-blame. "I didn't think that she would just be a complete... _jerk_ to you, and I..."

"Hey hey hey whoa whoa whoa", Angelica cut in, waving her hands. "Let's just slow down this station wagon and talk for a second...", she squinted her eyes for a second at the blonde, an obvious sign she was trying to remember something. 

"...Rico."

"Rico." Angelica let out a strangely forced, yet at the same time, carefree chuckle. "Sorry, I don't remember names very well. Or anything important." She let out the same sound again, the volume just a tad louder. "Anyways, what I was saying was...wait...what was I saying?"

"She's trying to say that it wasn't your fault, Rico", Beatrice spoke up. The blonde's blue eyes widened in surprise. 

" _How do you know my name?!_ ", she asked, shocked. 

"I'm one of Claes's friends", the brunette replied. "She and Triela told me about you two yesterday. You're in my Biology class, too."

"Really?" Rico was smiling now. 

"Yes", she said, just barely smiling. "Anyways, what happened between Henrietta and Elsa wasn't your fault. You didn't know what would happen."

"But--"

"Yeah, what she said", Triela added to Beatrice's statement. "You guys have been here for two days. Neither of you really know anybody here. And she was assigned to work with Elsa, there was nothing either of you could really do."

"As a matter of fact", Claes added, "you won't really know the majority of the people in this place."

"I know that!", the shorter blonde insisted. "It's just..."

"Rico", Henrietta said softly, looking up at her concerned friend. The gaze looked strangely intense, even with pink replacing white outside the girl's brown irises. "Believe me when I say it wasn't your fault."

That seemed to quiet Rico's self-blame in an instant. 

"It's mine."

It was silent for a second, before Angelica took the moment to speak up. 

"Hey now...", she started. 

"I knew I could just  _ask..._ to get switched with someone else", Henrietta continued glumly. Beatrice could see tears filling her eyes once more. "I could've...I could've a-asked, to-to work with you instead, Rico...but...but I got  _scared!_ " She wiped at her eyes as her voice cracked. "I got scared that the  _teacher_ was going to get mad at me and think I was gonna goof off with someone I liked, and that he wouldn't like me and that no one else in this new school would like me and--"

"Hey hey hey hey hey", Angelica cut her pained rant off, tone similar to the one Triela used a few minutes ago. "Let's just slow this station wagon down and talk for a second."

"You just said that", Triela interjected, tone teetering on the line between amusement and annoyance. 

"Did I?" The black-haired sophomore seemed to take this into consideration. "I can't...remember. Oh well. Anyway...", her attention turned back to Henrietta, "I  _can_ remember how it feels. You know...anxiety."

Henrietta sniffled. "R...Really?", she asked softly. 

Angelica nodded grimly. Her gaze went down to the desk, where her hands were placed. 

"I used to be really scared of what people thought about me", confessed the girl, tone becoming distant, melancholy. "People judged me. People  _still_ judge me...but it's  _nothing_ like middle school. I was already nervous about what the other kids would think, especially in sixth grade, you know? You're entering an entirely new building, and you meet new people and new teachers...I applaud those who enter a new school  _without_ some kind of fear."

Beatrice felt crestfallen. It was really a wonder how many people experienced stuff like anxiety...chronically speaking...especially people her age. One could be sitting next to a complete stranger on a bench and not even know they have that feeling. Heck, she was standing in front of three of them right now, and one of them happened to be one of her good friends. 

"...But...early on...there were kids who didn't like me. They didn't like the clothes I wore, how I talked, what I said...heck, some of them didn't even like how I stood. They hated those things so much that they felt like they needed to point it out...constantly."

 _Kids can be so cruel,_ Beatrice thought. 

Angelica sighed. "It was hard. I remember wanting to stay away from school, from those kids and their words...I even wanted to stay away from my _friends_ and my  _parents_. I guess I had this idea that they kinda thought bad about me, and they were just being nice to me because they felt sorry for me...I don't know...but it didn't feel good. I had panic attacks pretty frequently, and I spent a lot of nights in my room crying, wondering why everyone hated me. I had these really dark and scary thoughts in my head going around, _especially_ at night."

"Surely, you don't mean...", the brunette found herself saying out loud, catching everyone's attention. She meant it as an inner thought, something to keep to herself, especially since she knew what "boundaries" were. But she had said it, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

"Oh, I _mean_ ", Angelica replied humorlessly, a mirthless smile on her face. 

It felt like a heavy weight of sorts decided to come to rest straight on top of Beatrice's chest. It wasn't one that was determined to suffocate her, but it still felt uncomfortable nonetheless. She knew people felt this way when they were shocked or distressed; she wasn't the only one...but...

...with Angelica's darkest thoughts in mind, she'd kinda feel more disturbed if she _didn't_ have this kind of feeling, if she was being honest with herself. Though she couldn't begin to imagine what the feeling of being alone...like, _alone_ alone, where no one cared, where misery was one's company and never left them alone, all caused by some self-righteous, narcissistic _assholes_ , felt like. And she certainly didn't want to. 

People called her "B-Bot". Even Angelica and Triela. They, including those several others, just did it to tease, they didn't do it to bully. They went hand-in-hand sometimes, but in Beatrice's case, they didn't engage in the latter, which she was lucky for. Most of the time she just brushed it off; she knew how emotionless she was outwardly. 

But inside, it hurt sometimes. It was like a bee sting, which she  _did_ know a thing or two about. She wasn't as emotionless as people thought she was. She felt. She was human, not a robot. (Though some weren't portrayed as such in modern-day media, i.e., C-3PO, R2-D2, and all the characters in the movie Robots, but that was besides the point.) She felt angry at Elsa for snapping at Henrietta the way that she did, making her burst into tears and all. She felt sorry for Henrietta for having to hear all those harsh words. She felt sympathetic towards Claes, having helped her out with multiple bouts of utter  _helplessness,_ even without any prior knowledge and experience of dealing with mental health. The same thing went with Angelica and Henrietta, though to a certain extent. 

She felt. Just, not in the way others would normally picture those around them feeling emotions. She liked to think she didn't feel emotions as intensely as others, even her closest friend.

"Anyways", Angelica continued, not even a split-second later, as if she didn't just admit her darkest moments to a girl she hardly knew, "it wasn't fun. Far from it. But it  _did_ get better for me. I had Triela by my side the whole time. Claes had my back, too."

As if on cue, both girls smiled.

"I had Marco and Patricia supporting me through it, and a few other friends of mine who...who actually liked me. They saw what those haters didn't. They saw someone who cared about people, who loved to make people laugh, and was pretty. Heh, I don't mean to brag, but...yeah. You get it, right?"

Henrietta nodded, slowly. "Yeah. I think so."

"Yeah. Truth is, though...I still have it. Not...as bad though, but still. It's there, just...in a...a..."

"Milder form?", Claes supplied.

"Yeah. I don't know. It hasn't gone away. And really...I don't think you ever really, truly get over it. It's still there, buried deep inside you. It's like...it's like a  _virus,_ or something, it just _sticks_ to you. And it doesn't _shoo_. Maybe I'm wrong...it depends on the person, you know, but...it hasn't with me. Maybe it will with you, I don't know..."

Angelica was right. Claes had said the same exact thing to Beatrice before, and she was a living example of that statement. 

It was disheartening to know just how many people went through this sort of thing, day in and day out...more than 3 million people per year suffered from it was what she found when she Googled the word "anxiety". But to see Angelica share her experience with someone else who struggled through the exact same thing...

...it made her heart feel warm. 

"Listen, Henrietta", Claes said to the brunette after a period of silence. "I'm sorry I snapped at you and Rico on the bus earlier. And I'm sorry for avoiding you both all this morning. Something happened last night and it...wasn't very pleasant, like Rico said. I don't really want to share what it was, but I _do_ want you to know that you're not alone. We're all human, and we all need someone to help us out. If you need any of us, for any reason...we're all here for you."

"Yeah, Henrietta!", Rico chimed in enthusiastically. "We're here for you!"

"Same", Angelica added.

"Me three", Triela added with a hand-raise. 

"...can I be there for you, too?", Beatrice asked quietly, now that there was silence among them. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? 

Triela giggled and slung an arm around her shoulders. "Yeah! Sure you can, B-Bot, you just gotta be quick!"

O...kay...?Beatrice didn't know what  _that_ was supposed to mean, but she decided to let it go. She probably didn't want to find out. 

Henrietta was smiling now as well. It was soft, gentle. Like a sunrise over snow-covered grass. Something that Beatrice always found a beautiful sight. The light pink tint on the girl's cheeks seemed to really compliment that somehow. 

"T-Thank...thank you", the girl said, eyes downcast. "That...really means a lot to me."

"Don't sweat it", Triela answered with a dismissive wave of the hand. "It's what friends are supposed to do."

"Oh yeah", Angelica added. "Ooooooo _ooooo..._ "

Everyone shared a chuckle. Even Beatrice herself.

"You and your references, I swear", the taller blonde teased. 

"You love me", Angelica quipped. "And don't give me your small amount bull, because if Elsa were to bust through that door again, you'd bust her nut-- _oh my god!!_ "

" _Angelica!_ " Both girls, including Henrietta and Rico started laughing, while Claes and Beatrice merely shared a look, the former girl rolling her violet eyes in annoyance. Triela and Angelica were great girls and all, but their perverted way of thinking was far from amusing...at least, to them.

Which brought up the same question she asked herself a lot of the time: why were jokes about one's private parts, sexual intercourse, and drugs even _funny?!_

"That's not what I meant to say!", Angelica shouted, though she was laughing along. "That is  _not_ what I wanted to say!"

"T-That's true, though", Triela agreed, smiling widely. "I would. If she even  _has any_."

"Every girl has balls, Tree", Angelica deadpanned. "They're just safely tucked away  _inside_ our womanly bodies, instead of hanging outwards. We call them  _ovaries_."

"Speaking of which", Beatrice cut in before the conversation got any more out of hand. Additionally, something that Elsa had yelled out earlier had stuck with her, and she felt the need to point it out to the others. "Elsa said that...that  _Lance_ was the one that...gave her a  _bruise_ on her face...or something..."

All the others seemed to take what she said into consideration. 

"And so  _what_ if she did?!", Rico questioned. "She probably deserved it. She must've pressed the wrong buttons and made him mad. Some of you guys would probably do the same thing if that happened to you. Don't even argue."

"Yeah, but...it sounded like...it sounded like it wasn't the first time this happened."

"I heard Chiara say something about someone harassing her at one point", Triela commented. "But you're right. It doesn't give her any right to be mean to anyone else."

"It doesn't", Claes agreed. "But you never know what goes on in someone's life. It could probably be true, but one can't be too sure."

Which was true. One couldn't be too sure. That's what ultimately caused the death of Julius Caesar. He was so sure that he wasn't going to get assassinated by those who hated him, even ignoring his own wife's pleas to stay safe at his palace...though that's what ended up happening anyway.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but...still. Overall, Claes was right. No one knew what went on in Elsa's life, much less her head. 

Henrietta seemed to be taking the conversation into thought. She kinda looked sad...for Elsa, most likely. 

"Henrietta...", Rico asked carefully, "what are you thinking?"

The brunette shot up, obviously yanked out of  _deep_ thinking. "Oh! Um...nothing. Everything's fine."

Rico didn't seem satisfied with that answer, looking ready to push on. Beatrice would be lying if she also said she didn't feel the slightest bit curious. 

The bell rang before the conversation could continue, signaling everyone inside the school it was time to get to 8th period.  _Wow, time just flies by when you're really distracted,_ Beatrice thought.

Most of everybody got their desks rearranged back to where they were, put their computers and posters up, and were heading out the door already. The girls had five more minutes to fix their desks up, put their laptops and posters away, and get to their designated classes. 

"Looks like it's time to go", Claes noted, going over to where her desk was. The brunette looked over to where she was sitting before and noticed that they were back in their designated rows. The laptop she and Triela were using was still sitting on the latter girl's desk. 

She went over and opened up the device, saving their project to the Desktop, and telling Triela the number on the sticky note stuck to the laptop before putting it back in the black metal cart. She went back to her desk and picked up the other stuff she left on her desk, Claes doing the same as the rest of their new party got ready to leave, Angelica and Triela showing Henrietta and Rico how to save their projects and both freshmen putting their laptops away as the sophomores rearranged their desks for them.

"You guys don't have lockers yet?", Beatrice asked, noticing Rico and Henrietta's backpacks. 

"No", Rico replied, while her brunette companion shook her head. 

"Oh...I forgot to tell you...you need to go to the office for that", Claes told them. "You gotta ask one of the secretaries at the front about getting you guys lockers to put all your stuff in. Do you know how to get there?"

"Yeah, thank you. I'll take Henrietta there", Rico offered. Claes nodded once in understanding before they all went down the hall to their respective classes. And it appeared that all of their classes were in the same direction...well, she didn't know about Henrietta and Rico. She just met them and she knew they were heading to the office.

The six of them started making small talk amongst each other along the way.

"So Henrietta, do you have any favorite classes so far?", Triela asked.

"Well...I do like my Health Science class", Henrietta replied, a little bit of confidence in her tone, which Beatrice took note of. "We're learning about CPR and the circulatory system, it's pretty interesting."

"I've always found anything about medics really cringe-worthy", Triela confessed. "There's all this talk about how the body works, and what happens to it if you get sick or poisoned or whatever...it _makes_  mefeel sick."

Beatrice then tuned into the conversation Angelica and Rico were having. 

"It's really fun!", Angelica said with a giggle. "It gives you a really good workout, on all your limbs!"

"It sure sounds like fun!", Rico added with the same amount of perkiness, before her mood turned sour. "Too bad I got stuck with Wellness. Though I do like the variety of sports we play there. Right now, we're doing volleyball, and right now...I'm not liking it."

"Well you could always ask to switch", Angelica pointed out. "It's too late for us...though we can change at the start of the next semester, but you're new. You might still have some time."

"Yeah, well...I don't know how Jean would feel about that...probably not very happy."

"Oh...you're parents are strict, huh?"

"Well, he's not really my  _parent_ , you see. I'm adopted. Jean's my legal guardian. And yeah, he's...well."

"That's gotta suck", Angelica said, sympathetic. "Well, I gotta get to the courts, they're that way." She jerked her thumb to Beatrice's right before heading down that direction. "See you later then!"

"Bye!", Rico waved at her. 

"Hey, Rico", Beatrice said, catching the shorter blonde's attention. "Be sure you ask for an excuse note. The teachers get really on edge if you show up late and you don't have an excuse."

"Thanks, I will!", the blonde replied with a smile. 

They then reached the 300 hall, where Claes and Beatrice's next class, English, was. This was also the hall where both of their lockers were. The long, cyan colored item safe were on the left, while the classrooms were on the right. The strange thing was, they both had the same class, yet their respective classrooms were across from each other. The office was farther off to the hall's right. Triela had Statistics next, if Beatrice was correct, and it was to the left. Another funny thing was, Triela's locker was in that hallway as well. 

The five of them parted ways with goodbyes and friendly waves, and headed to their respective classes. Afterwards, Beatrice got hit with some kind of feeling. It felt tingly, and weird. In a strangely good way, and she couldn't shake it. 

"Hey, can I ask you something?", she asked Claes once they got to their lockers. (Another thing--they were right next to each other.)

"Yeah?"

"You know that feeling when...um..."

"...yeah..?"

"...that feeling when...you feel fuzzy and kinda tingly inside...kinda weird, too..."

Claes shut her locker once she got what she needed and smiled at her, adding to her confusion. 

"I think it's happiness that you feel, Beatrice", she said, close to deadpanning. "You're happy because you just made some new friends."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaannnd, that's that. Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> I'm gonna be taking a little bit of a break from this story because I've seriously got to update the other 4 I have on here. I'll keep in touch with this one, though. It's honestly become one of my two favorites. Plus, I don't believe in abandoning stories; I've gotta share that belief with my Batman and Star Wars fan-mily.


	7. what's wrong with being confident?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's gonna focus solely on Triela. I feel like I've made her underrated just a tad in this story. Plus, this chapter's gonna have a key event in here. Can you guess what it is?
> 
> So if you're a Triela stan...this one's for you. ;) 
> 
> Enjoy! :D

6:52 A.M. 

That was the time that Triela's phone said it was. And 8 minutes after that time, she and 16 others would be going via bus ride to Charles Darwin High in Lexington, which was about 25-30 minutes away from her hometown of Kenova. She and her fellow female track members would be going up against Cedar Canyon High (which was Angelica's former school), Green Springs High and St. Thomas Catholic School, both from Louisville, as well as the track athletes of Charles Darwin themselves. 

 _Yes,_ she was being  _very_ detail-oriented in her head. And _yes,_ she was extremely eager for today's meet. She normally considered track just something fun to do; a hobby. So fun it often times became a sort of _priority_ to her, though it wasn't necessarily the case. 

But  _today,_ one would bet themselves that the track meet taking place  _to-freaking-day_ was of high importance to Triela. 

 _Today,_ she was  _going_ to get at least three gold medals in Lexington. She  _would not_ go under the 1st place-mark by being two measly steps behind one of the, apparently, best runners from Green Springs. She  _certainly_ wouldn't be in the bottom four in the  _goddamn 100-meter dash_ and suffer the relentless, caustic mocking from Maria Machiavelli (thank  _God_ she decided to  _quit_ the damned team), and rhetorical question after rhetorical question as to what exactly happened on the red phosphorus track, both of which resulted in stink-eye from her old coach, as well as cruel rejection from her teammates.

No. She wouldn't suffer such a humiliating failure like that. Not ever again.

That's why she practiced. And practiced  _hard._ Warmed herself up and exercised to the point of her body completely  _quitting_ on her, and a little bit beyond that point. That last point only happened last night. She could still feel her inner thighs aching from round after round of squats and a few wall sits here and there. Her arms felt like they were about to drop and fall off from the shoulders from the excessive movement. She overslept for fifteen minutes and was two minutes too close to being late; time was, literally, of the essence to the blonde,  _especially_ on a day like today. (Seriously, someone remind her why they had to be on the bus at 6:50 when they weren't leaving until 10 minutes later?! Actually, no. Don't remind her why.) And because of that stupidity,  _she forgot to grab some damn ribbons_ _._

She got the headband to pull her bangs back (Murray was another mental scar for her), and keep them there, but  _not_ the  _god-forsaken_ ribbons.

She  _couldn't_ do running without one of them. Yet she managed to forget it, in a rush to get where she needed to be, all because...she set...her  _freaking_ alarm...to 6:25, instead of 6:10. No snooze button involved. 

She lived a good 10 miles from her school, and it took her a good while longer in time to cross one of _those_ to get ready and eat her breakfast (she had to gulp down on one of those refrigerated chocolate Instant Breakfast drinks that tasted like processed syrup...if that even existed), and she  _knew_ that. Her knowledge of that was close to rivaling Hilshire and Claes's awareness combined, considering the amount of times she was told of this.

...and the amount of times she checked the clock afterwards.

Driving in the dark was another thing. It wasn't the fact that she _couldn't_ drive in such conditions when such was required, no. It was the absolute _losers_ around her that were the problem. Most of the other drivers out at the crack of dawn were pretty responsible to her standards. But there were quite a few that made it their personal mission to rub her the wrong way. 

For example, a number of people liked to cut herself and others off from time to time. A couple others thought it would be cool to rush towards the next turn she was headed,  _just_ when she was about to turn in that particular direction. It was as if people  _wanted_ to possibly get thrown in jail. There was also one incident when someone in front of her ran a red light and nearly caused an accident. That one resulted in a few others honking their horns along with her. 

Fatigue may be a cause; there were people with late-night jobs ready to hit the hay or people traveling a good distance who wanted some shut-eye, but that was no excuse. They could make some coffee to keep them up and stop at the nearest hotel. There were plenty around. The closest one to her was a Hyatt five miles west of her high school. Brains were put inside people's heads for a reason. They should be using them before endangering others. Or else they'd get the horn and some cursing and various insults from a pissed off Triela Hilshire. Plain and simple. 

 _Anyways_ , when she got to the school parking lot, she found someone's car parked diagonally (YES, REALLY! DIAGONALLY!) across a couple parking spaces, and to this moment was _still_ replaying the moment she slammed the driver side car door closed and when she was about to  _drop some common sense_ on that absolute  _fool_ , when one of her friends, Silvia, popped out of the car and greeted her. She had only known the sweet, bubbly freshman for the first few weeks of school, and one of the things she knew about her was that she was  _very_ close with her family, and would defend them from anyone else in society even if they were in the wrong, and she had just enough rationality in her to restrain herself from getting into something she knew she'd regret later. (Especially since she knew her dad used to be in the Navy.)

They'd both plopped down on some leather seats on the bus closest to the front doors (as that was the bus designated for the girls), Silvia having grabbed a breakfast burrito from a cardboard carrier from McDonald's and taking a seat in the very back next to Chiara, and the blonde sophomore uncharacteristically taking a seat in the front of the bus in a manner of unsociable-ness. 

Needless to say, Triela was  _not_ a happy camper. Not that she ever was at...

...6:54 in the morning, not being a morning person and all. Not to _mention_ this being an event of  _dire_ importance to her that she  _was not, could not,_ under any circumstances, mess up...but life just decided it'd be sweet to add more problems to that. 

Ugh. Life was being a worse pain than lady cramps today, she _swore_.  _Why_ couldn't she  _just_ be up on time so these simple problems could be avoided? Why couldn't people not be complete idiots? ( _Seriously, what the hell, Mr. or Mrs. Salamone?! There's other people besides you!_ ) And why couldn't she have the common sense to  _pick up her freaking ribbons?!_

 _Gods above,_ she felt like she was going to  _explode_ under all this  _pressure._

 _Pull yourself together, Hilshire!_ , she mentally scolded herself.  _So what if people on the road are being idiots? So what if you had a late start to your morning? You still made it here on time, didn't you?_

Of course she did! But that wasn't the point.

 _Then what_ is _the point, exactly? Looking_ awesome _with your pigtails? Ya know, if your hair's pulled back with just a headband, you'll be fine. In fact, what's so wrong with shedding the look? It's kinda meant for little little girls. Like, toddlers. And you're not one of those anymore, you know?_

Just shut up, me! I know I'm not a Barbie girl doll living in a plastic Barbie world, and I don't intend to be! Insults are childish too, if you haven't heard. 

_...yeah, okay._

I'm serious!

_...yeah okay, serious. I'm Dad. ...Wait, NO. No. Please pretend I never said that. Anyway...wait...ugh, just...shed the pigtails for one day. It won't kill you. I think the only adult that does is that cooky girl who dresses up like a clown all the time. What was her name? Holly...? Hardy...?_

Sweet Christ. Now you're comparing my hairstyle to someone from those stupid comic books?! That's really just  _rich._ You know what? _Fuck off_ , I don't need you to play Mimi...er...I mean...Maria...in her place! 

 _You're right, you're right. I'm just trying to motivate you, not bring you down. Sorry if I came across that way. Don't get so worked up, especially today. You're going to Lexington, and you're going to do better than last time. All that just happened before that doesn't matter. Breathe. They're over, you're here on the bus, and you're going to do better than last year. You've prepped yourself pretty good for it, right? After all, you_ did _say you liked a good challenge._

 ...okay, yeah. True. 

_So shut up and concentrate on what's important._

Ha, ha. Okay. Very true, conscience. She  _did_ get here on the bus where she needed to be, eight minutes prior to the designated leaving time, despite the complications. Some of them were unnecessary, sure. But she didn't let them stand in her way and foil her plans. She was _going_  to go to Lexington, and she was  _going_ to blow everyone away. Especially those few who still kept in touch with Maria and decided to bring her down at every turn. 

And yeah, the change in hair style wasn't that big of a deal, either. In fact, from the reflection off her phone, with her bangs pulled back by a white cotton headband with two colored stripes--one red, one blue--and her hair without her pigtails, her long golden blonde strands meeting each other in the middle, going down to the small of her back...she kinda  _did_ look more mature. The emerald green and golden yellow track uniform she was wearing seemed to compliment that, too. The latter color just so happened to be her favorite, so that was kind of a plus.

And she had also been looking forward to seeing a couple friends she had made from other schools again. She could engage in conversation with them in between races. The same went for people on her own team, including the boys. This would be Silvia's first track meet, and she had voiced her excitement several times over the last few days; but she had admitted being nervous. Triela could give her a little bit of a pep talk and some last advice before her time to run came. One thing she hated was seeing people in the same situation as she was; just because she felt nervous didn't mean she couldn't help another person out. 

But it didn't have to be right at this moment. It was almost 7 in the morning, and conversation, especially in instances such as these, was kept to a minimum. Socialization this early in the morning when she didn't have that amount of energy yet was like asking her to pick up a cactus without special gloves. (She'd been told she was as prickly as one of those in the mornings. _Claes and her euphemisms._ ) That would be proven more true if she moved towards the back, as that was where the prissy girls were sat. The possibility of getting into some kind of verbal altercation was very high; they seemed to always wanted to start shit with her. And she  _certainly_ didn't have the energy, nor the patience, to argue with people with less brain cells. 

It was now 6:57 A.M., and the feeling of stomach butterflies kicked in, joining the feeling that her calves were about to fall off, something she had grown accustomed to over the years of frequent jogging and sprinting and other cardio exercises. Triela tried not to focus on the metaphorically incessant flip-flopping, rather focusing her attention on what Coach Aprea had to say. She was carrying an orange plastic clipboard, which most likely clung to the attendance sheet. 

Her suspicions were proved correct when she called for everyone to be quiet--more than once--and started marking down who was on the bus and who wasn't on the bus by calling out all the girls' names. For some reason, she always called them by their last names when they were headed to a match. It wasn't that way when they were just practicing and doing their thing in 3rd period. 

"Harris?"

"Here."

"Hayes?"

"Here."

"Hilshire?"

"Here", she answered, not loudly, but clear enough to be heard, as she raised her hand up slightly for emphasis. She turned on her cellphone once more and decided to check out her social media apps, first going to her Snapchat, as that had a red circle with the number 2 on the top right corner. It turned out there were 2 Snaps from Angelica, taken late last night when she, and any normal person, was asleep. But as her best friend, Triela was aware that Angelica stayed up at late hours when either a) she was really excited over something that was supposed to happen the following day, b) she had some kind of sugary food that resulted in excessive hyperactivity, or c) she was having "flashbacks"; the result of a four-way bad idea of watching a horror movie too well-known amongst Triela, Angelica, Claes, and Beatrice as _Murder-Set-Pieces_ during a sleepover about four or five years back. 

Thank God it happened to be A. Triela was really happy for her friend. She was adjusting really easily to her new school, though, her knowing several people from the school kinda helped out with that. She had confidence in her...more than the raven-haired girl thought she had, and for the past three days, she'd really been showing that gregariousness she had in her off, leaving Triela to sit back and watch her go. Kinda like a prideful big sister mentor of sorts, which, she would admit, she acted as. Angelica  _was_ a year younger than her. 

And she even managed to get herself a _girlfriend_  almost a week before coming to attend Woodland Heights. The blonde never thought of her friend being into girls, but she wasn't going to judge. Whatever floated one's boat was good enough for her. And considering the nasty breakup her friend had gone through in eighth grade, in which the heart-wrenching results had her swearing off love, the outgoing, caring girl with the best of intentions that Triela knew went out and got someone that cared about her enough to _like_ like her by just being herself...with a little bit of forced, awkward personality. And Fleccia was happy with all of that. 

Fleccia was a soccer player, and apparently a pretty decent one at that. She had _really_ defined legs to prove it, and the day before after school, the blonde caught a glimpse of the redhead fiercely playing defense and, impressively, managing to get the ball halfway on the other side of the field. But of course she couldn't stay and watch; _she_ had to practice for today's track match. 

Like Angelica, she was pretty quirky. They both still loved childhood TV shows more than more mature dramas and sitcoms, though they had plans to see a movie of that genre tonight, they both had a fondness for dogs (Angelica owned a white Lab Retriever named Perro, and according to the raven-haired girl, Fleccia owned 3 beagle puppies), they both shared a fear of roller coasters and spiders...there was most certainly going to be another enthusiastic repeat of what she called, "The Lovey-Dovey List". 

To Triela, Fleccia seemed like a pretty nice girl. The blonde had gotten pretty friendly with her, too. She had a lot to dirt to dig up on most of the snooty popular girls, particularly Soni LiVolsi, who actually used to be a good friend of hers before she decided she was too cool for real people. That was something the blonde could relate to a little too well. 

She would need to find the time to sit down with her and have "The Talk" soon. That was definitely something on her imaginary to-do list. 

But that could wait. Coach Aprea just got done with attendance, which was her cue and the other girls's cue to pay attention to the layout of what was going to happen next. 

"Okay ladies, listen up", she began. "You've all been made aware of what's going to happen today. There's not going to be any steeplechase, they _are_ going to be selling hoagies and concessions. If you want a hoagie, it's 2 dollars, and if you want something else...you figure the price out.  _You cannot have seconds._ There's going to be at least 300 kids there, counting every single one of you. There's only enough for 300 kids, alright?"

Well that didn't really matter. She had her packed lunch with her to eat whenever it came to be noon-ish or so...or whenever she was done with one of the scheduled races. She reached out for the plastic Walmart baggie that contained a ham and cheese sandwich with an apple with a water bottle of her own...

...

 _...oh_ fuck, _her lunch was back at home!! She forgot her lunch too!!!_

 _Nononono_ no,she could  _not_ have forgotten her lunch too!  _Her_ lunch, that she had made  _specifically_ for this day.She could apparently grab a protein shake from the fridge but  _not her_ goddamn _lunch._

This day was  _already_ shitty enough. It  _couldn't_ get even worse; it just couldn't. Could. Not.

"I expect this bus to be spick and span from any trash and crumbs by the time we reach the school", Coach Aprea continued sternly, pointing a bony finger towards the back. "And all of you will act on your _best_ behavior. You ladies are pretty good about this, but I'm gonna say it again. If I catch you, or anybody else catches you horsing around, doing something inappropriate or  _illegal,_ God forbid, or disrespecting somebody from this team, the boy's team, or any other team, you will be sent back to the bus and you will not participate in the following meet. Am I clear?"

What followed was a chorus of "Yes ma'am"'s; though for Triela, it was forced out. 

"Alright. Are there any questions? Comments? Anything?" The coach glanced at each and every one of the girls, including her. 

And for some reason, that innocent enough glance felt very scrutinizing to her. It felt as though she was being looked down upon for screwing up again, which she did. Her track coach didn't know exactly what went down before she came here, nor did she really have any idea as to what went wrong in Lexington...did she? 

She wasn't the only one who talked to her coach. Those other snooty girls exchanged conversation with her. It wouldn't be surprising if the topic of what happened a year before came up. Although Coach Aprea preached camaraderie and good sportsmanship during class time, she heard that same message being preached by an older, stony-faced brunette who tended to be quite contradictory; and it was pretty obvious she disliked her job, as she took that hate out on everyone. That meant everyone. Though she did tend to praise a select few more than the others. Those tended to be the ones with massive egos and superiority complexes. 

How far did that go, however? Was she really appreciated, by skill and by appearance? Not just by her teammates, but by all the boys? Was the reason that she wasn't on their radar was because of her failures? Was that the reason she wasn't that noticed in this class? 

"Going once...going twice...", Coach Aprea continued in a sing-song tone. 

Should she even consider it? Who would want to hear something so petty from her? 

But...

...wasn't the long hair bad?

 _...oh, screw it,_ Triela thought, resigned. 

She raised her hand slightly, her coach's gaze immediately settling on her in questioning. 

"Um, yes", she stated awkwardly. She then turned towards the girls behind her. "Does anyone have a scrunchie I could borrow?"

* * *

"Alright everyone, listen up!", Coach Aprea called out to the girls. "We're roughly 2 minutes from Charles Darwin. When you leave this bus, whatever trash you have goes _in this carrier_." She held out the cardboard carrier that held a few remaining breakfast burritos inside. "Make sure there's no trash around, if you see something on the ground,  _pick it up_ and throw it away. I'm not any of you all's mother, and even if I _was_ , I'd still make you pick it up. You can leave the stuff you brought along with you here, but if you plan on bringing it out to the bleachers, make sure you don't lose it. We'll get done late and chances are, I won't be in the mood to conduct a search party. Understood?"

"Yes, Coach", Triela answered stiffly along with the others. 

This was it. They were almost there. She was heading to her potential humiliation and doom. Heck, maybe she was heading to her grave site too. And...and...

...Honestly, that last part Aprea said happened to not be as true as she made it sound. Whether she would admit it or not, Triela's track coach definitely cared about her students. There was one time before their first meet in Owensboro where someone lost her favorite jacket, and she made them all go look for it. A few minutes later the coach herself found it and the girl was super happy and they both hugged it out with smiles on both of their faces. 

The blonde needn't worry about her area. She had no  _food,_ or anything else for that matter, that could cause a mess. Her long hair was now up in a singular ponytail, held up by a hot pink scrunchie provided by Silvia. The hairstyle wasn't what she was going for, but today she would have to suck it up and suffer with it for one day. She didn't get any comments about the change in style, thank goodness. That took some of the pressure she felt off of her. 

She relieved it a little bit more by just chilling out in her seat, avoiding conversation entirely and listening to her music while looking out the window, watching grass and trees pass by. She even took a Snap and sent it to Angelica, the one person she was sure wouldn't judge her for her hair style, and sent her a chat telling her to have a good time on her date, and a little bit of sentimental praise as well. 

She also got a text from Claes reminding her yet  _again_ that she forgot her lunch, which she pointedly ignored, as she couldn't focus on something else that would make her more nerve-wracked than she already was. She already had enough of those for one too-early morning. 

 _You turned up here just fine_ ,a voice inside her head reminded her. _You're just fine. F-I-N-E. Just like you're going to be at this match. You don't know that it'll be the same as last year until you go through with it, you know?_

...

This self-reassurance was totally useless. She was sure of it. Or...the anxiety was just stubborn. Whichever of the two, the problem wasn't _solved_. 

Soon enough, Triela saw the school from out her window. It looked somewhat prestigious to her, with its dark brick exterior and tall height, many glass pane windows decorating it. There was also a Bible verse gracing the welcome sign this year. She didn't know the school too well, but she had reason to believe that they put quotes they thought to be inspiring to welcome students and teachers. It was that way last year, as she and Maria had caught sight of it. 

The bus made a left turn, and pretty much everyone fell silent, knowing where they were at and awaiting further instructions. Funny thing, because they hardly ever did that unless told so. The event must be serious for everyone else as well. 

"Alright girls, listen!", the coach began with the debriefing. "When we walk out of this bus, you are to put any trash you have in the carrier." She lifted said carrier up for emphasis. "You are to follow me out to the track, but _do not_  walk ahead of me. None of you know exactly where you're going anyway."

Um, _rude_! They'd all been here before, and she certainly knew the route after one time coming. And that was one time in the entirety of freshman year!

"When we get there, you can warm up a little bit on the field. We're going to warn you guys on the microphone when we're going to start, and when we do, all the girls, I don't care where it is you sit, preferably together or with someone else on the team, but all the girls have to sit on the right side. In other words, the side facing the school. The boys are taking up the bleachers on the other side." 

"We've decided that the girls are going to go first with the events because...ladies first, right?" 

This earned a few loud noises of agreement from the girls. 

 _Oh Lord._ This only made Triela's uneasiness rise. _Why why why WHY?!_

_It's inevitable. You're heading towards doom and humiliation; you'll fail this time as well._

_Like hell I am! The only thing I'll fail at is failure itself! Leave me alone!_

_...are you sure about that?_

_Yes! YES! Just WATCH me!_

"Alright girls", Coach Aprea continued, calling for calm.

"Now. Let's run some races!" 

A good few people cheered, Triela being one of them. However, hers was fake. If one looked close enough, they'd probably deduce that she was really just releasing some of her inner pain. 

So what? Fight her. This would be the scene of possible ultimate defamation for her. One would try and pull the same thing. 

"Okay, I need two girls to help out and carry this cooler", the track coach added, patting the white lid. She pointed in her direction, "Triela, and...", she scanned for someone else, "Hadley! Come on, honey, help Triela carry this."

 _WHY DOES GOD HATE ME SO MUCH?!?!,_ Triela screamed internally. _I worked my ass off for this meet, and THIS IS WHAT I GET BACK?! More SHIT?!?! MORE SHIT TO HANDLE?!?!_

_Over-exaggerating. You're over-exaggerating. Calm down, focus on your race._

_IT'S KINDA HARD WHEN YOU HAVE NO LUNCH AND NO RIBBONS IN YOUR HAIR!! OH AND GUESS WHAT, THERE'S A COOLER I HAVE TO HELP A DRIED UP RAISIN FEMALE DOG CARRY!!_

_Let's face it. I'm gonna fail. I'm hopeless. THIS IS HOPELESS!! This entire match is hopeless, I'm gonna fail everything, everyone's gonna see, I'm gonna be the butt of everyone's verbal torture—_

Triela must've been pretty distracted, because she felt a slap on her face. And that slap was _hard._  

She jumped out of her seat, one hand just below her chest, the other raised in the air; a starting position in taekwondo. 

"Triela."

Due to her eight and a half years of combat experience and training...especially with pitch...Triela absolutely did _not_ turn around and emit a high-pitched squeal of surprise, defensive position still up. She just didn't, okay? 

"Triela, help carry this cooler", Coach Aprea instructed; was that _amusement_ on her face? "And don't damage that pretty face of yours with bruises, we don't need track cut from the school budget because of school injury too."

Wait...that slap...was _self-inflicted?!_

"...okay, then. I'll just...carry this cooler then", Triela acquiesced quietly, pulling out the cooler.  _No big deal. Just. Breathe. One thing at a time. Don't focus on the blush that's definitely there...just...carry the cooler to the bleachers with Hadley. That's all you have to do._

So that's what she did. Coach Aprea exited the bus, followed by a backwards-walking Triela and a normal-walking Hadley carrying the heavy cooler by the side handles. The rest of the girls filed out, making a small crowd and going out onto the concrete and over to the side of the school. 

"What is that on your head, Hilshire?", Hadley inquired. "Did you decide to take the foot part of both of SpongeBob's socks and sew them back together to make that?"

She spread her feet apart and dropped her end of the cooler. 

"Whooooa, _sensitive_!", was Hadley's mock-shocked reply as she stumbled. "I was just asking, take a chill pill!"

"If I'm sensitive, then you're pretty annoying", Triela bit back, picking her end back up. "At least my hair doesn't look like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket." 

Hadley narrowed her eyes at the jab, but she didn't say anything back. Probably because she knew Triela had a point. 

They continued walking until they reached the track field, where the two girls were directed to their assigned set of bleachers, where they dropped off the cooler at an area where everybody could grab a drink at a reasonable distance, and parted ways. The blonde sophomore decided to go down to the field and warm up. She needed to be as prepared as her opponents came; her hard practice over the past three days would sometimes prove to not be enough. Last year was a pretty good example. 

Another hard pill to swallow, that one was. Another cruel lesson taught by personal experience.

"Hi, Triela!", she heard Silvia call directly from her right. "Why were you up front? You missed out on a pretty fun game of 'Never Have I Ever'!"

"Ha, well...long morning", was the nonchalant reply as she reached down to touch her toes. "No point in joining if you're not feeling up to it."

"Well...yeah. But it _was_ pretty fun."

"I bet it was", the blonde admitted, spreading her legs apart and reaching for her left foot. "But oversleeping and having to rush to get out the door and forgetting your lunch in the process isn't. Among other things."

"Ah, I understand", the shorter brunette assured. "I mean, that look you gave Nathan when he parked is understandable", she added with a cute-sounding giggle. 

" _Seriously,_ parking _diagonally?!_ ", Triela exclaimed, standing upright. "In the parking spaces?! Where other people park their cars?! Especially when _another_ car was trying to park in one of said parking spaces?! How many brain cells does your brother have left, Silvia?!"

"That was actually Tyler's car that was trying to get there, in fact", Chiara chimed in as she strode over to them, phone in hand. 

"You guys, for the _fourteenth_  time", Silvia cut in, "Nathan got put in the alternative school not too long ago. They're gonna fix him up. The road to redemption is a slow and grueling one."

"Or it's just a way to keep Satan incarnate away from regular high school for a semester", grumbled Chiara. 

Silvia sighed. "Chiara..." 

"Let's just say", Triela supplied, aiming for peace, "they haven't taught him about consideration of other people yet and leave it at that. Everyone's fine, it's over, let's just forget we said anything." 

_What a hypocritical way of solving everyone else's problems, Triela._

In a moment, they both acquiesced, Chiara rolling her eyes and changing the subject with the click of her tongue. 

"Triela, call off your lesbian friend, she's blowing up my phone", the black-haired girl complained. 

"Group chat?"

" _Snap_ chat."

" _Of_ course", Triela sighed while Silvia snickered. She pulled out her phone and unlocked it using her 4-digit passcode to find a red notification bubble on the top right corner of the Snapchat app with the number 182?! (yes, _182.._ after blinking a few times to make sure her vision was okay.)

"How in the _world..._ ",she muttered, tapping on the text blurb, sending her to her messages. Sure enough, there was a red square next to a bold-fonted version of Angelica's name. She tapped on it twice to be greeted with a Snap of Angelica and Henrietta in the cafeteria, smiling with some kind of cute bear ears with glasses filter, with the caption, 'Just introduced Henrietta to Snapchat'. Triela would be lying if she said she didn't smile at the heartwarming picture— _and_ showed it to her two teammates standing on either side of her.

"Is that the new girl?", asked Chiara concerning the brunette.

"Yeah."

"I _think_  she's in my Music Theory class", Silvia chimed in. "She seemed really nice, but she's pretty shy..." 

"Oh yeah." Chiara's voice took a turn towards realization. "Yeah, yeah, I heard from Emma she said she played violin or something like that." 

"Henrietta plays violin?", Triela asked.

"That's what Emma said", Chiara shrugged. 

"Wow, _violin_ ", mused Silvia with a wistful smile. "You know, violin's a pretty hard instrument to play." 

"Yeah, considering there's strings instead of keys", chimed in Triela. "Plus you can't use your hands either—"

"One hand you have to use to hold the end and stuff", Chiara interjected.

"—right, but you know, you have to use a bow instead of a pick...or your hand..."

"Plus you have to hold the butt under your chin", Chiara added. 

"Yeah."

"I don't think I could do that", Chiara admitted with a half-laugh. "I'd probably get an itch on my nose or something and wanna scratch it with the stick thingy."

Silvia laughed while Triela made a face.

"Not in there, _God_!", Chiara blurted. "I meant like the top part, _pervert._ "

Triela just narrowed her crystal blue eyes at her...and stayed like that for a moment...before walking two steps forward to the girl with the bob cut. 

" _Germs_ ",was the one word she emphasized, pointing her finger straight on Chiara's toned stomach.

Chiara squinted her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her. 

" _Alright teachers, boys and girls, if I could have your attention_ ", a voice neither girl could recognize spoke up with the aid of a microphone. " _Thank you for coming to participate in this track-and-field match today. I'd like to offer a warm welcome to our opponents, the Cedar Canyon High School track team from Kenova, the Green Springs High School team from Louisville, the Woodland Heights High School team, also from Kenova, and a very special welcome to the track team of St. Thomas Catholic School, a private Catholic school also from Louisville. This is their first track-and-field meet, I believe. So guys and girls not from there...go easy on them, heh heh..._ "

 _Go easy on them, my_ _ass_ ,Triela thought. _This is going to be_ my _match._ My _time to prove myself. The only thing they're going to be let easy on is most likely the aftermath of my victories. Which I will rightfully have_ earned _through_ my _perseverance._ My _hard work._ My. Put. In. Effort.

I. Will Not. Fail. 

Not this time.

Chiara scoffed. "Sorry sir, but going easy isn't something I do with my opponents."

They stood out on the field for a few more minutes, as someone from Charles Darwin's choir led them through the National Anthem and someone from St. Thomas summoned up a prayer. Then the man spoke up again, telling them to go to their respective coaches to recieve their numbers, and they all went up to the bleachers, awaiting the start of the games. 

Triela took out her phone and tapped on the blue chatbox next to Angelica's name and read through the many, many, MANY chats her best friend sent her as soon as she took a seat on one of the steel benches. 

CALIFORNIA-GORL

| Thanks so much, gal! You're so supportive it's unreal I cant! XD 

| We'll have 1 of the best nights ever! ^-^

"You think she's trying to revive yet another meme?", Silvia asked her, taking a glimpse at the blonde's phone. Triela didn't bother batting her away. 

"Guys, Gatt's back at it again with the trolling", Chiara called, tone not-so-strangely clipped. "You're not gonna believe what— _Triela! Get Angelica to stop texting my Snapchat!!_ " 

CALIFORNIA-GORL

| triela we NEED to take brownie out somewhere!! idc where, just SOMEWHERE. seriously, this girl is pretty rad!! :D 

| wait..

| sorry, tree. nobody uses that anymore :( 

| how bout we go 2 the skatepark and grab some slushies? 

| sry...yu still upset about matt? 

"Why won't she _piss off?!_ ", growled an irritated Chiara. "I _get it_ , you're excited for your date, _I don't freakin' care!!_ "

"Chiara!", Silvia scolded. "That's not nice!"

"You wouldn't give a damn if she was the one blowin' up _your_ mobile device, would you?", Chiara griped. 

" _Girls at this time, we will begin the track part of the track-and-field match with the 100-meter sprint_ ", the announcer guy (as Triela had decided to dub him) spoke up into his microphone. " _At this time we need Adamson from Cedar Canyon, Allan from Charles Darwin, Acosta from Green Springs, Brandy from St. Thomas, and Azzari from Woodland Heights to report to the track._ "

" _Geez_ , that was quick", Chiara remarked, getting up from her spot. 

Both girls had to agree. Preparation usually took a few minutes longer than this. Yet everything was set into place. The dude with the starting gun was there, the coaches had their stopwatches out...yep. They were ready to get started. 

"Good luck!", both Triela and Silvia bid to their friend as she walked down to the track. 

" _Again—Adamson from Cedar Canyon, Allan from Charles Darwin, Acosta from Green Springs, Brandy from St. Thomas, and Azzari from Woodland Heights. Report to the track for the 100-meter sprint._ "

"You owe me a soda", Silvia teased. 

Triela gave her a look.

"At the moment, I'm broke", the blonde deadpanned. 

" _Drat!_ ", the brunette exclaimed, snapping her fingers in an exaggerated display of a sore loser. 

The blonde rolled her eyes and went back to her phone. 

CALIFORNIA-GORL 

| did you know that mcd's made bbgun flavored broccoli at 1 point XP

| *bbguM holy moly LOLZ

| trix r 4 small tits but idc i took fleccias after i ate my lucky charms :D

| SMALL TITS OMFG >:( I MEANT TOTS, AUTOCORRECT!

| srsly tho...i dont have a pic but the dress...? what colors are they? claes and bbot say its blue and gold -_- 

| im SOOPER bored, can you tell?

ME

| Quit texting Chiara, Angelica. I was beginning to see the vein in her forehead start to t h r o b

| And for the absolute last gODAMN TIME. THE DRESS IS BLUE AND BLACK!! END OF STORY!!

| Ur welcome. 

* * *

" _Girls at this time we need Hansen from Cedar Canyon, Hart from Charles Darwin, Kennedy from Green Springs, Langley from St. Thomas, and Hilshire from Woodland Heights to report to the track for the 100-meter sprint._ "

 _Oh_ God. _This is it._

" _Again, at this time, Hansen from Cedar Canyon, Hart from Charles Darwin, Kennedy from Green Springs, Langley from St. Thomas, and Hilshire from Woodland Heights. Report to the track for the 100-meter sprint._ "

Triela stood up and made her way down to the red phosphate track, aware of how good avoiding the inevitable would do for her—especially with supportive, albeit pushy, teammates. Plus, all that hard work preparing for this race would go to waste if she quit—which, she couldn't try to do anyway. 

She took the stairs two at a time, as the distance in height was a little drastic, took a right, and took some not so drastically big steps down to the track, all the while trying to remain calm and determined to win. 

It wasn't going so well.

Her heart was slamming against her ribcage in a frantic beat— _lubdublubdublubdublubdub_ —her stomach had decided now would be a good time to tie itself in the tightest knots possible, her legs felt like unstable jelly about to collapse from under her, worst of all, it wasn't even that hot outside, yet she could feel _sweat_ forming at her temples.

Oh _God_ , she just  _had_ to look like such a _mess_ right now. Right now, _right now_ , in front of a stadium of track runners from her team and others from the opposing teams, boys and girls alike, their respective coaches, and worst of all, the opponents she was facing off. They could get a clear view of her physical state and be thinking, 'That's the girl from Woodland Heights? Psshh. She was a _riot_  last November. Wonder how she's gonna make a fool of herself _this_ year.' 

 _"How does one of the best runners on this team lose to 3 other girls in front of her?!", Coach Phipps was yelling at her. "Cedar Canyon's got the_ worst _rep for this sport, yet somehow, one of their girls beats_ you, _of all people!"_

_She tried to explain herself, but it was hard to when she had a pissed-off coach screaming at her like she was four times less her actual age. Funny thing that she asked her to explain what happened, yet she was acting like she didn't want to hear it._

_"I don't want to hear it, Hilshire!", the coach growled, face getting more redder than Triela thought possible._ I rest my case _, the blonde said to herself bitterly. "That right there is like, the easiest race in this event. You should be the first one reaching the end lane,_ always. _Have you been practicing hard for this like I told you, repeatedly,_ repeatedly, _to do?!"_

 _"_ Yes— _"_

 _"_ Obviously _not!", Coach Phipps sneered, brushing her answer off to the side like dust. "All I've seen you do this week when you were_ supposed _to be_ running _and_ practicing your aim  _was slacking off and laughing with Azzari and Machiavelli and all your other girlfriends who were actually taking this meet_ seriously. _"_

 _"We were on_ water break! _", she fiercely protested. "And so was everyone else! For only_ five _minutes! And for your information,_ Coach _, I worked my_ ass _off just like_ everyone _else for this! Maybe that Cedar Canyon girl decided to practice a little harder this year, I don't_ know! _"_

 _"Don't you_ dare _backtalk to_ me _, Hilshire!", Coach Phipps barked, roughly pushing the girl backwards._

 _"Did you just_ push _me?!", she asked, more out of shock than anger._

 _"You bet your sorry butt I did!", her coach roughly replied. "Obviously you haven't learned respect for your superiors either, you_  brat. _Ifyou can't learn something as simple as that, I'm beginning to wonder why you're still on this team!"_

_"Really!" Really?_

_"Really! You're on my team, and there are expectations I have for every single one of you. And what you did out there, and what you're doing here, screaming at my, your coach's face, is not following any of them!"_

_"Get out of my sight, Hilshire", she hissed. "I'm done with you."_

_She did, muttering a petulant "Fine" under her breath._

_It only got worse after that. The highest she placed in the entire 'racing' part of the match was a 3rd place in one of the middle-distance races. All the others—she made it in the bottom two; all the more infuriating her coach, and even giving something to joke about for the other girls. Even Mimi and Chiara laughed at her rather humiliating moments._

_The field events weren't much better. The shot put she threw was similar to what one would expect from a 4 year old with little muscle. During the discus throw, she_ somehow _managed to hit Ian Giacommotti, a boy on her school's male-oriented track team she, admittedly, had some...feelings...for, in the back of the head. Every single girl on the team, including the coach, unsurprisingly, gave her shit for it. But mercy came when Coach Phipps angrily sent her to the bus, saying she was done for the day, and banning her from the last track meet of the semester, which was scheduled to take place in an indoor track-and-field arena in Louisville._

_That was fine by her. It'd spare her much worse of a day, and at least let her live this failure down._

_Oh...wait..._

_No. No she wouldn't live this down. There was no way in hell._

_\---_

_"Ooooo, you done_ bad _, gal", she heard a boy mock her from behind. Then, to one of his "homies" or whatever, he blabbed out, "She hit someone in the_ head! _"_

_"Triela Hilshire's just taken the biggest 'L' in 2016!", someone she was pretty sure was Mimi cajoled a few seconds later._

_She saw someone stick their tongue out and made a crude noise with their hand in the shape of a L above their head in the corner of her eye as she walked up to the bus, taking a seat in the front, not speaking to anyone as they drove to Subway for a quick bite before heading back to school._

_And as the girls chattered on around her, what her coach had told her before popped up in her brain, giving her a good ol' dose of fear. If she had somehow regressed to beginner's level, even with hard, constant practice..._

_...was she really not worthy enough to be on the team?_

_She was expected to do her best, and be_ at _her best...but what went down today was obviously not her best. What if she had more of those? What if she showed her worst out there for a few more races that she did get cut from the team?_

_She thought she was one of the best track-and-fielders on the team; she put her heart, body, and soul into every match, every round of practice during school hours, before school, and after school. But with today...why didn't all of that pay off?_

_God, she was confused. And tired. And embarrassed, beyond how much she thought was even possible. Angry. Hungry. If she had the ability to slip away from a moving bus, she would gladly do so, then go somewhere in the middle of nowhere, dig a hole, bury herself with the discarded dirt, lay there and die. This day was supposed to be just like any other track meet; exhilarating. Fun. Satisfying with the taste of victory on her tastebuds._

_This wasn't supposed to be a dramatic 180 of that. She wasn't supposed to be wondering if everything she put into track-and-field was all meaningless and questioning her even being on the team in the first place._

_\---_

_"Fine! Take the damn seat!", Triela shouted, catching the attention of practically everyone in the restaurant. Not that she cared. Hot tears were threatening to spill from her crystal blue eyes, her fists were clenched tightly, and her sandwich and water were dropped on the floor. Not that she cared about that either._

_What she did care about was Mimi Machiavelli, who she thought was her best friend, her best. Damn. Friend! pushing her aside for some new 'cooler' girls...the same girls she thought not even three months ago to be 'snooty airheads'. HER FUCKING WORDS. And she had not only plopped into a booth with two of them, and saved a seat for Hadley Hayes, one of the biggest 'airheads' on the team. Not her._

_How had it come to this? What made Mimi decide Triela was suddenly too lame for her to hang around? They'd been through_ so _much together, had so many of the same interests and hobbies...they freaking went as each other one Halloween, for Christ's sake! She didn't even know Hadley for three months, and suddenly they were inseparable for life?!_

 _She should've sen this coming. The distancing, the change in attitude, the goddamn_ gossip _—her friend was changing right in front of her yet she turned a blind eye to it, her excuse being she couldn't control who her friend hung out with._

_A bit of a dumb blonde moment on her part. She tended to have a lot of those. She wouldn't be surprised if that was one of the reason Mimi decided to grab a knife and stab her in the back with it, twisting it too for good measure._

_"And you know what?" She unhooked her silver bracelet, where an old paper heart with a red 'F' hung as a charm. Mimi had made it for her and given it to her as a birthday present when she turned 10. It wasn't the best 'BFF' bracelet ever, but to her, for 5 years, it was a treasure. A token of friendship._

_And now...it meant nothing to either of them._

_Triela threw the bracelet on the table._

_"Take this too you backstabbing_ bitch! _", she screeched, voice badly wavering. "Throw it away with our long, meaningful friendship while you're at it!"_

_Then she ran out the door and to the bus, hiding her face and curling up in one of the seats, letting the tears fall and her heart shatter, just like Maria, Coach Phipps, and everyone else on the team wanted._

_\---_

She made her way over to the 5th lane, as was told, stopping once her toes touched the starting line. Her eyes bore into the thin white marking without purpose. 

She was here—on this track, this very track—once more. For some reason, it felt so surreal. Almost like it was the very first time she was doing this, back in her middle school days...almost. There was this litte part of her that felt that was just another ordinary track meet. Like it was basic procedure. Nothing new.

Except it kind of wasn't, in a way. 

The one, simple reason was as plain as day. 

Her head rose forward, facing the finish line 100 meters away. Instinctively, she got into starting position, one knee barely touching the red phosphate track behind her, the other taking shelter just below her chest. Both hands came and down to the rough surface in front of her, palms up, fingers making contact, just in case of conduction.

Yeah, she knew what that was. She wasn't _that_ stupid, she had a brainy foster sister who owned a textbook or two that she...ahem... _borrowed_...on more than one occasion...

She turned to her left to face the girls she was up against. 

 _So. We've got ourselves a new team_ , Triela thought, taking notice of the brunette in blue and white next to her. _For a Catholic school, I have to admit, these girls are pretty decent. A couple of them got up to first place, first place! Wonder what made them decide to go up against public schools._

 _But that's not important! What is important is me redeeming myself where I messed up. I don't play nice, period, but I'm gonna show these average runners that_ Triela Hilshire. Doesn't. Play nice! 

 _What everyone—everyone here, is going to see, is a player who_ deserves _to be on her team. An opponent who deserves some respect. A high school girl, just like the others I'm running with now, and the other high school girls I've been running with three times a day, who has worked._ Damn _hard, to get where she is right now._

 _I messed up...but I'm_ still _going to do this. One slip-up—scratch that—one bad day isn't enough to knock_ me _out._

_Besides. Feigning sickness isn't something I see myself doing. Seriously, I'm too tough for that. Also...either Claes or Hilshire would call bull in a matter of minutes._

"Alright girls, line up at the start", one of coaches told the other girls. "Get into position while you're at it, like she is." He motioned to her prepped state. 

For the briefest of moments, Triela felt a bit of pride. She was noticed, by a _boy's_ track coach...for doing something _right_ , for once.

_Nice. Now keep it up by blowing them all away._

Sure enough, that moment of truth came. The guy with the microphone, whom she figured out was the principal of Charles Darwin High, gave his summary of the runners and wished them good luck. The man with the starting gun came into her peripheral vision. He raised the small orange-and-black pistol in the air. 

Suddenly, everything fell silent. She knew there was people cheering and chatting in the bleachers, watching their teammates and best friends racing and all, the girl's coaches prepping their stopwatches 100 meters away, but right at this moment...every noise seemingly vanished. It was kinda like one of those dramatic scenes in an action-packed movie when something big was going to happen, and all sound was cut off to emphasize just how important it was starting to get.

Shestared at the finish line before her. She braced herself for the go-ahead. 

There was silence. 

Then there was a loud shot, echoing around the stadium. 

And she _ran._  One quick-paced step after another, elbows jabbing open air, pumping back and forth like sharp and bony pistons. Hands on the end were wide open, harshly swinging up and down as well, assisting her counterbalance on her movement, providing stability. 

In the corner of her eye, she could see the other runners doing the same motions trained into them. St. Thomas was tailing her close behind. Cedar Canyon was lagging pretty badly from what she could see. Green Springs and Charles Darwin were a good few inches in front of her, next to each other and not gaining any ground.

 _God, no! You're_ not _getting over there first!_

She pumped her arms faster, moved her legs quicker. She wasn't losing St. Thomas from behind, the ponytailed brunette was still on her shoulder. But she was running fast enough now that she was tailing Green Springs and Charles Darwin. Triela kept on running; she would _not_  stop running, not when she was halfway there. 

_Halfway there..._

Run! _Run_ harder! 

 _I_ am!!

_**Run harder!** _

A short moment more, and she _did_ push harder; hard enough to be next to both leading girls. The blonde's legs used every ounce of energy they had, arms counterbalancing the speeding motion with harsh pumps back and forth. Her fingers spread wider with anticipation, the finish line and the girls's respected coaches with their stopwatches closer within her sight—and victory that she was going to rightfully claim within her grasp. 

She could hear their cheering, but she blatantly ignored their praise. She had just gotten further than Green Springs towards them, the girl tailing dangerously close behind her now; absolutely no reason to get cocky. But her main concern lay in the girl from Charles Darwin, who was a good few steps in front of her. 

_Almost there, almost there! I'm almost there!_

Andright now, she was in the place of a runner-up. She ran just a little faster, but she wasn't nearing the girl any. All she was doing was getting closer to her destination. Her opponent was pretty speedy; she seemed to have this race in the bag. 

 _I just can't get past her!_ , Triela thought.  _She's too fast to even get close to!_

_It's almost over. You won't place first. You'll have the place of a runner-up. Not that that's a bad thing._

That was correct. But she had come here with high hopes—and all that was going to waste. And it was only going to get worse from there, she was _positive_. 

All of this...

All of this...was for _nothing._

 _"You should be the first one reaching the end lane,_ always! _"_

 _"She hit someone in the_ head! _"_

_"I'm beginning to wonder why you're still on this team!"_

_"Triela Hilshire's just taken the biggest 'L' in 2016!"_

_"You should be the first one reaching the end lane,_ always! _"_

 _"You should be the first one reaching the end lane,_ always! _"_

 _"You should be the first one reaching the end lane,_ always! _"_

...

She _ran,_ hard,moving her legs faster than she thought was possible, arms aching slightly from the constant back-and-forth movement, but that was the very least of her concern. Her teeth clenched and bared in a visible scowl, and her bronze fingers stretched wider as she inched closer to the Charles Darwin girl. 

The finish line was only a few feet away now. The girls's coaches out in the field cheering phrases of encouragement with their stopwatches out as Triela _pushed_ onwards, fiercely sprinted past her opponent with every last ounce of speed in her.

And it was not a moment too soon before her right foot stamped on the pale pink number 5 and her left foot over the finish line, the Charles Darwin girl a close second behind her. Green Springs came in just afterwards, followed by St. Thomas and Cedar Canyon not too far behind. 

 _Slow jog, slow jog, slow jog...now walk_ , she instructed herself. _It's over with now. Report to Coach, see how you did now._

"Good job, Triela!", Coach Aprea called over to her, a visible smile on the woman's face. "That was some _real_  effort you put in back there, considering how fast that one girl was going."

...point...?

"Go get yourself a drink", her coach said, clasping a hand on her shoulder. "You've earned it."

She... _earned_ it. She'd be going on her break afterwards anyway, but...

She... _earned it._ Rightfully _earned_ her break, for once in a long while.

And it was all thanks to her hard work and determination...that _actually_ paid off today.  

It _actually_ paid _off. Right_ where she feared it would backfire. 

"T-Thanks, Coach!", Triela graciously, albeit excitedly, took the compliment as the reality of what had happened fully sunk in.

 _I_ won!  

Her track coach laughed a little as she let her go, the student rushing back to her place on the bleachers to her left with a stupid grin on her face. 

"Hey!", Silvia greeted when she noticed her friend. "Did you win? Chiara's not sure."

"I _did!_ ", Triela squealed, high-knee-ing giddily on the concrete step. "I actually _won_ this time! _All that hard work and no play paid off!_ " 

Silvia jumped up. "I'm proud of you!" Then they both started jumping up and down excitedly, knuckles barely touching, squealing like they were half their age. 

_And now my friends are noticing my progress! This day's turning out better than I thought!_

Chiara observed the pair with a raised eyebrow. "You two _do_ realize there's still the other races and the field stuff, right?"

Yes, there still was all that to go through, Triela realized suddenly. How could she forget? She had just scored a victory on the track, and although it was a great start, that wasn't enough to fully redeem herself here. 

She still had two more sprints, two middle-distance races, a long-distance race, and a relay to take care of. (Oh, did she mention they weren't doing hurdles for some odd reason today?)

 _Celebrate your victories. It's okay to do that_ , she told herself. _But stay focused. Lose that and you lose the races,_ and _your hard effort._

"Triela."

She snapped out of her daze. "Hm?"

"Triela, I didn't mean it like that", Chiara was saying to her. "You'll do fine, you will. Last year sucked...for _both_ of us...", she rubbed her right knee, where a knee brace was a few months before, "but you're bouncing back pretty good. It'll be fine." 

The blonde in question started smiling again. _Chiara's right. I'll do great out there._

"Wait, what happened last year?", Silvia asked innocently.

"Nothing. Now where's _my_ love and support? I don't remember you guys getting this giddy when I crossed the finish line."

" _Awww_ , come here baby girl!", cooed Triela, crushing the other sophomore in a bear hug and stroking her short, soft hair. "Does baby want some affection, awww...we _wuv_ 'ou!"

" _Ugggh_ , get _off!_ ", Chiara groaned dramatically, trying to squirm her way out but failing miserably. "This is not what I meant— _Triela!_  Triela, I have a _boyfriend—Triela!_ "

And Triela _did_ do well on the other races. In the 200-meter sprint, she placed 3rd, which bummed her out and made her a little mad, but after that particular race her opponent from St. Thomas complimented her running and showed her a little good sportsmanship, which made her a little less upset. Her mood got better when she asked about the girl's private Catholic school joining in a public school event, and they and the girl from Green Springs got into a conversation about the sports they liked...particularly track-and-field, especially since they were in said sport. 

Silvia got a little nervous about her races too, seeing as though this was her first track meet _ever_ , so Triela and Chiara gave her a little pep talk before the first two races; they helped out a lot, seeing that the wavy-haired brunette placed 1st in the 100-meter and 200-meter, thoroughly impressing the blonde with her amount of speed. And later on, both Chiara and Triela placed 1st in the 400-meter sprint.

Silvia was going to start her race in just a moment, and she was much more confident in her abilities...excited even. The blonde's days, no matter how bad, always got brighter with her friend's happiness...even if she didn't act like it most of the time.

And speaking of inner happiness, it was there alright. And so was the satisfying feeling of accomplishment. She had finally righted some of the wrongs last year and was just beginning to set the record straight: that Triela Rachele Hilshire was a great runner, one of the best on the Woodland Heights High team, and she'd always be there to prove it to everyone else watching, even the naysayers. She was dedicated to what she did, and deserved her place on the team, and especially on the track, where she more often than not felt she belonged.

* * *

" _See_ , Claes?", Triela was condescendingly telling her foster sister via FaceTime. "I told you practice makes perfect."

"You said no such thing", the bespectacled girl in question retorted. "And for your information, when someone's 'practicing' in the kitchen, of all places, to the point of their body quitting on them, logically, you'd want them to take a break. Don't even argue."

"You're in track, Triela?", Henrietta inquired.

"Yep!", she answered the brunette. "Have been since 7th grade. It's pretty fun! It takes a lot of stress off my day a lot of times. Plus, you get to go to different schools and compete against them. The challenge is pretty thrilling too, I guess."

"I like running, too!", chimed in an exuberant Rico. "We run laps a lot in Wellness to warm up. I've been told I'm pretty quick by my old coaches." 

"Rico really likes sports", Henrietta explained shyly. "O-or...anything that involves physical activity and sweating."

Triela actually laughed a little at that. So did Claes and Angelica, who was technically the one on the other line. Rico did too, but the blonde swore she caught an eyeroll. 

"It's alright, Henrietta", Claes told the brunette, "I'm not much for sports, either." 

"Well I coulda told you that", the blonde quipped. 

Her foster sister just glared at her through the screen. 

" _Aaany_ way", Angelica said after a short moment, "you sure there's—wait a second, where did you get pizza?!" 

"Silvia ordered it", answered Triela, referring to said pizza slice in her hand. "And yes, the theater's selling slushies for 50 cents now I was there getting my sunglasses a week ago and I saw." She took a bite of the cheesy pepperoni slice.

Her friend gave her a thumbs-up. "Okay. Fleccia said they were and I was thinking about getting her one, so..."

"Plus you're thinking of going to the Lock-In together in less than a month", Triela added with a warm smile. "We all know, Angie."

The raven-haired girl blushed with a small smile of her own.

"I think you girls are cute together!", Rico gushed suddenly. "Though I'm kinda...I don't know what the word is, but, I didn't think girls dated girls. Are there any boys that date boys?"

"Yeah." Angelica could be seen smiling coyly from the side. "There's plenty of them that are."

"Do you know anyone that does?", the blonde asked curiously. 

" _Okay boys, at this time you are going to begin the 100-meter sprint_ ", the announcer guy with the microphone...well, announced, cutting all conversation off. " _We need Berkeley from Cedar Canyon, Aguirre from Charles Darwin, Almen from Green Springs, Callaway from St. Thomas, and Amirez from Woodland Heights to report to the track. Again, that's Berkeley from Cedar Canyon, Aguirre from Charles Darwin, Almen from Green Springs, Callaway from St. Thomas, and Amirez from Woodland Heights who need to report to the track for the 100-meter sprint._ "

It was silent for a moment...well, as silent as was in a track field filled with students from 5 different schools...before Henrietta tentatively asked what the noise was. 

"That was just some guy with a microphone", Triela replied. "He's just calling people down, saying it's time for them to run." 

"...oh..."

"Heeeey!", she heard Silvia from behind. "We're back!"

"Is my Ty-pie running yet?", Chiara asked as she grabbed another slice of pizza from the cardboard box next to Triela. 

"What's his last name?", Silvia asked. 

"Clements."

"The answer is no, then", Triela answered for her friend. "They just started calling out the boys for the first sprint."

"Oh, goodie! I'm not missing anything!" Chiara's mood changed to dreamy not a moment too soon. "I'd feel guilty if I missed my _baby_ racing out there! He's the dreamiest, talented guy!" Cue the cute, sappy sigh...of _love_.

 _Love that she wasn't getting for some reason. Urrrrggggh!!!_  

"You guys can't touch him, he's _mine_ ", Chiara continued. "Don't even _look_ at him. _I'm_ the only one allowed to watch him beat those other people and kiss his puppy face." 

"Gattonero was snooping around your house last night", Angelica blurted out. 

Triela's eyes widened at the screen in front of her at her friend's absurdity. Then she slowly looked over at Chiara, who had this blank face on. This expressionless, apathetic face that just stared at the phone with unreadable eyes. 

It was creepy. No, scratch that, whenever Chiara was really rubbed the wrong way, one should fear their _life._ Even if you weren't the source of her rage. Because they were running the risk of being in such a position, regardless if they were trying or not. 

"I know", the girl said lightly. "That's why she's not going to be in school for the rest of the week."

Everyone else, in the bleachers and in the Woodland Heights cafeteria a good 20-something miles away, was wide-eyed with shock. Yes, even the ones who knew Chiara well enough to expect this behavior. 

"I don't know whether I should be sympathetic to that little asshat or not", Rico ( _Rico?_ ) finally broke the silence. 

" _Rico!_ ", scolded Henrietta and Claes simultaneously.

"Rico?", Silvia and Chiara both questioned. Then Silvia asked not a second later, "Isn't that a boy's name?"

"You see girls named Hunter and you don't call _them_ out for having boy names, do you?", the blonde freshman asked sassily. 

"She was just _asking_ , Rico, _chill out!_ ", called out Triela. 

The blonde seemed to recognize her mistake, a slight blush dusting her cheeks. "Sorry", she apologized quietly, eyes going downcast. " _Really_ sorry", she added a little louder, making an effort to look at the phone. 

"Please don't hate her!", Henrietta desperately blurted out. "She didn't mean it, really!"

"It's okay", the sophomore acknowledged, nodding her head. "Just don't be so defensive next time." 

"Okay", the girl acquiesced, eyes going to her food. 

"My name's Silvia!", Silvia brightly introduced herself, not caring that she was sassed at in the slightest. "It's nice to meet you, Rico!"

"Speaking of being defensive", said Claes, "did anyone else get a link sent from Gattonero?"

Triela blinked. "...no?"

"Is this about two days ago?", Angelica asked. "'Cause that's the only reason I'll care, to be honest."

"Same", Chiara chimed in. Then a moment later, "...actually, no...no, I won't."

"...I _guess?_ ", Claes replied, though it sounded more like a question. "I don't know, heck, I don't get _half_ the stuff your friend does."

"Welcome to the club", Chiara said flippantly. 

There was chatter in the background before, but a second later, it started getting slightly louder. 

" _Shoot_ —we're about to leave!", exclaimed Angelica, getting up from her seat. "I'll talk to you later, Triela, I gotta go!" 

"Okay", Triela said around a chuckle. "Before you go, two things—hey Henrietta!"

Said brunette whirled around in surprise. "Yes?"

The blonde motioned to the brunette behind her right shoulder. "Well...Silvia here tells me you can play violin, is that true?"

The girl on the screen blushed and looked to her right—probably nervous about being late to class. "I do", she answered shyly.

"Wow! That's pretty cool. We'll talk later, okay?"

"O-okay!"

"Bye guys!", the blonde said to her friends. Silvia and Chiara came into view and said their goodbyes along with the girls on the screen. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck on your date, Angelica!"

Angelica smiled sweetly. "Thank you! Bye!", she waved as she started making her way out of the cafeteria.

"Bye." The face-to-face call ended just as soon as Charles Darwin High's principal started speaking in the microphone again. 

Silvia and Triela's gazes stared at Chiara expectantly. 

"What did you do to Gattonero?", Triela flatly asked. 

"Me?", Chiara pointed to herself innocently. "Erm...some _things._ "

The blonde sighed.

"What _things_ , Chiara?", Silvia asked, annoyed. "Why isn't she going to be at school for tomorrow?"

"Oh, that's 'cause last night she hurt her foot falling", Chiara explained. "Not like that's gonna stop her from walkin' around on it."

Triela scoffed. "Yeah... _right._ Cut the crap, Chiara, what _really_ happened?"

"I'm serious!", Chiara stressed. "She hurt her own foot falling. It's what I did to the bitch's pants and arms and _said_ to her that's why she's not going." 

"...what did you _do, Chiara?!_ ", Triela asked, frustration starting to break free from barely held-together patience. If she was being honest with herself, she was kinda worried, too. Gattonero she was pretty sure had a green belt in karate or something; Chiara she had been friends with a little longer than the rather boisterous freshman, and as far as the knowledge she gained hanging around her went, she didn't have any experience in any martial arts.

Basically, Gattonero could easily kick Chiara's ass if she wanted to.

So to hear Chiara say what she said...

" _Relax_ , guys", Chiara said dismissively. "I didn't hurt her any. She'll be _fine._ "

"You're _still_ not answering the question regardless!" _I've had enough of this._

She was going to use other means to get her short-tempered friend to talk, but Silvia, that normally sweet girl with an equally innocent and lovely disposition, beat her to it. 

"What. _Happened_ , Chiara?!", the girl barked, pinching the back of the other girl's neck.

"Ow! _Ow, okay!_ ", Chiara gave in frustratedly, "I just took a scissor to her favorite jeans and wrote some shit on her forearms with a Sharpie! _Jesus Christ!_ "

Silvia let go of her friend's neck, going for twisting the arm. "What did you write on her?"

"Yeah. And how did you even manage to do all that to her?", Triela asked. "She's got a green belt in karate. You on the other hand, have _nothing._ Martial arts-wise."

"True. But she's not as quick on her feet—especially when one's sprained or whatever."

" _Ugh_ , Silvia make her talk. I'm gonna use the restroom real quick, tell me what she did afterwards." With that, she took off for the restrooms, which were located behind the bleachers. Once she had reached it and relieved her full bladder from the two purple Gatorades she had drank in one setting not even an hour ago, she started to make her way back up, but stopped dead in her tracks, as she had managed to catch sight of...

"Triela! Over here!"

_Oh God..._

_Ian..._

_What do I do? What do I do?! I hit this boy in the head once...not that I meant it, but...what do I_ do?! _If I just keep walking, I'll look like a stuck-up dumb blonde to one of the cutest guys in the boy's track team...if I just pretend I didn't hear him, I'll make myself out to be a bit of a bubbleheaded idiot. I'm not saying anything right now, geez I must look stupid already, come on! Say something nice; hell, say anything! The first thing that pops up, even! Just don't say anything that comes across as stupid, or rude. Go on,_ respond _, dammit!_

Triela tentatively raised a hand and waved slightly, forcing what she hoped was a convincing, heart-winning smile. "Hi, Ian. How's it going?"

 _Oh not much, he'll say. Just still miffed that your aim was way off and to this day I'm still recovering from a head injury dealt to me by a ditzy klutz._ Triela could just _picture_ the mark she didn't mean to leave. _Not that that's a big deal._

"Ah...it's-it's going", was the brown-haired, baby blue-eyed, charming boy's response, causing the blonde to giggle. 

_Oh yeah it's reeeaal funny, Hilshire. Laugh it up. Laugh up that his day secretly could've been better had he not come across you._

_But...he called me over, so..._

"I saw you run out there", he said, one of his charming grins on now. "Well, _obviously._ You were really amazing out there is what I'm trying to say here."

 _Omigosh omigoshomi_ god _...he complimented my running! He. Complimented. Me!!_

A proud part of her reminded her of her hard effort being the reason why she thrived; but most of her being was either flattered or totally starstruck. 

This boy didn't think ill of her at all; she'd gained his attention in a positive light, in fact, she was admired a little by him.

Her results were more exceeding than she originally thought. 

"Thanks", she forced out, a giddy smile plastered on her face. "You're not too bad yourself." She coyly looked down to the concrete ground below. 

That last statement was pretty _under_ stated, to say the least. Ian had the longest streak of gold medals earned that Triela had ever seen out of any athlete. He was great at both running and the field events, blowing everyone away with the effortless grace he showed off when he quickly ran around the track, jumped as far and high as he could, threw any object as far out into the field...without hitting someone who was not even on the field in the head.

His skills and talents were adored by many; his teammates, his coach (who often times teasingly called him a showoff), of course the girls on her team—though Triela questioned if it was because they thought he was cute, which he was, or if they genuinely adored his skill and personality—and even some of his opponents. Some of their coaches and the parents that came to help out with events like this adored him. 

Yeah, Ian was pretty cool. He was one of a kind, the brightest star in the night sky, if one will. Who _wouldn't_ admire someone like that? 

"Thank you", the boy chuckled. "But seriously, you are pretty great, like in 400-meter thing." He put his hands up, wrists turned up to the clouds. 

"Here's you", Ian said, refering to his left hand. "And this other hand, it's pretty much everyone else." He flexed the middle and ring fingers of both hands, as if to demonstrate people running.

Triela giggled, similar to the fashion of a small, rosy-cheeked child. One of her hands reached up to cover the wider perky smile on the lower half of her face...though it did little to hide the pink heat she could feel on her cheekbones. 

The guy she'd been crushing on for about a little over a year was _flirting_ with her. Actually. _Flirting_ with her. Her wishful thinking was actually becoming reality right before her very eyes. 

"Hey listen um...", he resumed, "This is ah...a bit of a weird question, but...after school tomorrow there's supposed to be a dodgeball game in place of after-school practice."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, and...I was wondering if you would like to be on my team? If you're not too busy?"

Ian's team Triela knew would consist of the best track-and-fielders, regardless of gender. Some of them were his good friends, who were some of the best. To be asked by one of the most good-looking and talented boys in the sport to join his team...

...it was like she was going to be hanging around the professionals. Although she was one of the best anyways, this was like some sort of promotion. Like she'd finally earned some respect from her fellow top dogs. 

And the one in front of her was one of the boy crushes she'd had since high school first began for her. 

"Sure!", was the sunny answer. "You're making a pretty good choice, picking me. I know my way around a game of dodgeball." 

Which was true. Dodgeball she could play. It was pretty fun at times, too. It was _kickball_ she despised with a passion. 

Ian chuckled at that. It sounded like the sweetest piano ballad. "Well, okay. Look forward to having you." He reached in his short pocket and pulled out a small plastic card. 

"Here, I want you to have this", Ian told her. "My mom just gave this to me, but I don't want it. I think you deserve it, too."

She took the card. Once she got a glance at it, she recognized the Apple symbol and the multicolored spray paint background; it was an iTunes gift card. 

And judging by the amount of orange on it, it held $25. 

"...W-Wow...thanks", Triela was speechless. "I...that's really thoughtful of you, um...what would make you _not_ want this?"

"I would, but the thing is, I _can't_ ", Ian admitted. "My mom's...I love her with my life but sometimes she's...basically, I have a Samsung phone, but my mom...I don't live with her, so I guess this kinda makes sense...she didn't know I got a new phone so..."

"I get it", Triela said. "It's kinda pointless to own this if it can't be used for your phone."

"Yeah, that's what I was gonna say", Ian replied, brushing a curly strand of hair away from his eye. "So, you can have it. A little gift from me to you." 

And not a moment too soon, the boy's phone dinged. He pulled it out and took a look at it. 

"Welp...my mom wants me for something", Ian said. "I gotta go to the track. You want me to walk you back to the bleachers?"

"U-uhm..." _Don't panic. Don't panic. One of your huge crushes just asked to walk you back to your set of bleachers, which is right behind you and him. Not a big deal. Not a big deal at all._

"Um...uh, I just remembered! M-My friend needs something from me, I need to go." She sprinted back towards the bathrooms and shut herself in one of the stalls.

A moment later, the silence in the women's restroom was filled with Triela's excited squealing and dancing. 

 _I don't believe this! I. Don't. Believe this!_ , the blonde exclaimed to herself. _He's not mad at me, he likes me! As in,_ actually _likes me! He noticed me and wants me to be on his dodgeball team tomorrow! He even gave me this_ gift card _that he couldn't even use!_

_And later on..._

_...it'll be a lot lovelier than_ this.

There was a slight part of her that was criticizing on her exit, as she missed an opportunity to walk with her crush back to the bleachers—but Triela figured she might be wasting his time by agreeing, even if Ian was the one who went out of his way and offered her the opportunity. 

Plus, if another girl were to personally meet Ian Giacommotti, get to know him a little bit and all, she would probably suffer from happiness overload as well. She figured it was also some remaining adrenaline from the races that played a part in her choice as well.

But if he gave her some other romantic offer, whether it be later in the day or tomorrow, wherever...Triela would _definitely_ take up on it. 

Such opportunities didn't last forever.

Triela calmed down a few minutes later, exiting the stall and the building, the giddy smile still plastered on her face. This day she had feared would turn out to be terrible was becoming one of the best days of her life. 

She was on the road of redemption with more than satisfactory results; the very few friends she had on the team were proud of her, her coach was proud of her, even the people from other teams were proud of her. 

And so was Ian. 

His offer was more of a reward than anything else. 

Behind her, she heard the distinct 'click' of a cigarette lighter, disrupting her train of thought.

Turning around sharply, Triela found none other than...

_...Pinocchio?!_

As in, the same Pinocchio kid who beat someone in her Chemistry class senseless with his _bare hands?_ The same brute who not even three days ago was led out of said classroom in _handcuffs?_

How in the actual ninth circle of hell was he _here_ , lounging by the bathroom building, _lighting a cigarette_ , instead of _prison_ , where he should be _rotting away serving his sentence?!_  

The boy in question seemed to notice he was being watched, turning his head towards her with narrowed peridot eyes. 

"What? Is it a crime to have a smoke now?", he asked flatly. 

"It _should_ be", Triela shot back, "considering you pounding somebody and being led out of my Chemistry class in _handcuffs._ "

His eyes widened, but only for a short moment. Triela felt a flash of satisfaction at this. 

...yeah. Satisfaction at her wit bringing someone speechless. It felt great, like always.

The wide eyes in front of her narrowed into slits once more. 

"I don't think you're even qualified to be a parole officer", Pinocchio censured lowly. "You're not as tough as you're trying to make yourself out to be." 

" _Try_ me", dared Triela.

"I'll pass. You haven't been marked."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I don't get what you _mean,_ smartass _._ " 

Pinocchio gave her a look. "I bet that gift card of yours that if I wasted my time explaining, your airheadedness would prevent you from understanding." He took a drag from his cigarette. "Such it is with sports girls."

" _Excuse_ you", Triela snapped, "Just because I'm in track doesn't mean I have a lack of brain cells. Unlike _you._ "

Pinocchio scoffed. "At least I don't sound like a dying pig when the cutest guy next door hands me plastic money." 

Triela gawked. "At least my hobbies don't include scaring little girls half to death by threatening murder to someone who called me a dummy." 

Now _that_ got his attention. 

He pulled out a pocketknife—all the more proving Triela's point—lips pulled back and teeth clenched in an irritated snarl, the clenched object brought inches away from her neck, the other fist roughly latching onto the fabric of her tracksuit. 

"You...have _no idea_ what you're on about", the boy venomously hissed. 

Blue eyes were wide with surprise and fear. She had been taught how to react when someone walked up and threatened her with a weapon before—several times with several different methods. But to actually go through such a scenario was...in a word...intimidating. 

A split second later, Triela's 10 years of training in martial arts kicked in. She raised both hands in what she hoped was a foolproof pacifist gesture before quickly latching onto Pinocchio's knife hand, pushing it to his left side and flipped the forearm back to the right. 

Only to have a sharp uppercut delivered below her chin. But the blonde still kept her grip, albeit it loosening thanks to said blow. 

" _Pinocchio!_ ", Triela heard a female voice from behind shout. "Just _what_ do you think you're _doing?!_ "

Triela brought her head down, mandible smarting from the hard blow. She remembered the knife still in Pinocchio's hand and the position she had his forearm in, deciding to take the opportunity to apply pressure. 

However, his free hand was moving swiftly to punch her again, this time in the temple. Triela quickly removed one of her hands from Pinocchio's wrist and blocked the impending blow, clasping the fist with an open palm, fingers grasping the top of the hand, attempting to push it back. 

"Stop it! Stop this _right now!_ ", the same woman demanded, running towards the scene and coming into view, a man with dark sunglasses following close behind. 

Both pairs of eyes settled on the two adults. The woman came to Triela's right side and noticed the knife in Pinocchio's hand and her blue eyes widened. 

"Put the knife down, Pinocchio!", the woman barked. 

To Triela's surprise, Pinocchio complied, dropping the pocket knife to the concrete—albeit with narrowed eyes.

The woman turned to her, expression softer and sympathetic. 

"I'm _so_ sorry, sweetie", the woman apologized to her. "Did he hurt you?"

"No I'm fine, thank you", replied Triela. "Are you his mother?", she asked. 

The woman shook her head. "No. We're friends of his who don't condone his _violence towards innocent people._ " She pointedly glared at Pinocchio when she stressed that last part. 

The boy held that gaze without fear or shame. 

"Well, if you say so I suggest you get away from here", the woman advised as her black-haired partner coughed into his fist. "You've still got some races to run and events in the field to go do, right?"

Triela nodded. 

The woman smiled slightly. "Well, you go have fun over there and do your best, okay? I'm gonna have a nice long talk with _him_ ", she jerked her thumb at Pinocchio, "so he doesn't...you know."

"Yeah, I get it. Thanks", Triela forced a smile as she walked back to the bleachers. 

Although...on her way...she overheard the 'talk' between the two of them. It wasn't like she could just ignore it; the woman was screaming her head off at Pinocchio, and he was yelling right back at her with just as much ferocity.

Plus...she kinda enjoyed eavesdropping on drama. Just a little. 

_(It's a girl thing, okay?!)_

"Did I not just say not to start trouble with the students here?!", the woman yelled angrily.

" _She_  started shit with _me_ , Flanca!", protested Pinocchio. "She brought up—"

"I don't give a rat's ass _what_ she was doing! You have no right to threaten anybody with a knife unless it's absolutely necessary! Franco and I have told you this, what, _twelve times already?!_ "

"What a self-righteous moron", Triela muttered with an eye roll as she headed back. 

* * *

The relay races were in progress now. There were two girls from each team lined up at the start, one behind the other, the girl in the front holding a plastic baton of bright color handed to them by their respective coaches.

Silvia and Triela made up the Woodland Heights team on the last lane. Both girls were taking their time warming up their legs before they had to run around the entire field— _twice_ —with the bright green baton in hand, then they'd be finished with the track portion of the meet. 

"This is it!", the brunette in front of her declared excitedly. "This is the last race before we get to the field, I can't _wait!_ " 

"Yeah", Triela forced out a not quite unhappy reply. "Can't wait."

Silvia, ever the observer, noticed her mood. "What's wrong? Do you not like the field?"

"No, it's not that, it's just..." _It's just that I can't stop thinking about this Pinocchio guy. Like, he threatened me with a knife not too long ago. I wasn't hurt or anything, but I could've been if I didn't know how to protect myself. Not to mention that he beat up somebody pretty bad in my Chemistry class. How is he not in jail?! He was led out in handcuffs,_ handcuffs! _when he did that._

 _He has to be on house arrest. Or probation._ Something! _And he's clearly violating it by being_ here _, of all places. The question is, why? Why is a high school in Lexington, Kentucky the place he decides to hang around? And who are those other two he's hanging around, his parents? No, they look a little too young for that...drugee friends? Cousins? Who knows..._

"Triela?"

"Hey look Katie, it's the next Wilma Rudolph over there!", someone to their right called over, pointing towards Silvia. It turned out to be a girl from Charles Darwin. 

Silvia laughed. "Come on, girls! I'm not _that_ fast." 

"Not _that_ _fast?!_ ", the girl asked, incredulous. She put her hands together and pointed them towards the brunette. " _Boi. Somebody_ , back me up here. She was _literally_ two feet in front of everyone else, at _least._ "

"Nah, I'd say three", Triela chimed in. "Two's a rough estimate." 

"I mean, _I'm_ fast", one of the girls from Green Springs added, "but she was outrunning me so much I was pretty much in the same position behind her throughout." 

"Aw, _shucks_ ", Silvia looked down to the ground coyly, waving a hand at them. "You're making me blush."

Triela came over and wrapped an arm around her friend's shoulders. 

"Katrina, your shoes are tied, right?", the blonde heard a familiar voice say. 

Blue eyes snapped open, and her body tensed.

"Good. You'll be fine, Missy, just do your best." The coach's face turned towards her, confirming her theory and adding more uneasiness. 

"Triela? Is that you?", Coach Phipps inquired her. "Triela Hilshire?"

Triela avoided eye contact, but half-heartedly waved back; now wasn't the time to get salty, especially with the teachers. 

"Wait, you know her?", Silvia asked. 

"Yes, I know her", the woman replied. "She was one of my students back when I used to be coach at your school."

"You were the coach for Woodland Heights before?!", Silvia's tone got enthusiastic as Triela winced.

"Yes, that's right. What grade are you in honey?"

"I'm a freshman, my name's Silvia." 

"Nice to meet you, Silvia, good luck out there. Triela, can you come over here? I wanna talk with you a minute." 

The blonde weighed out her options...and made her way over to her former coach on the fake grass of the field. 

"Yes?", she asked tersely. _What do you want from me, you absolute bent-out bobby pin?!_

Her smile was small, shy. _Uncharacteristic._  "Hi. How's your sophomore year going?" 

"Fine." 

"Fine?" _What, would you like me to use bigger words?_ "That's good. Happy to be doing this again?"

"Uh-huh." 

They were silent for a moment. Standing on the field awkwardly. When she should be getting back to the track and get ready for the race. There was no point in this other than small talk with one of her former students. 

"Triela, I brought you over here so I could apologize to you", Coach Phipps said just as Triela made a move to leave. 

"Apologize", the blonde repeated the word, but it was too quiet to be heard. She turned around and said the same word, but instead phrased it like a question.

"Yeah...I feel as though last year I wronged the team I coached in Kenova...in a lot of ways...especially you."

" _Me?_ "

"I definitely put a lot of excess pressure on you, especially during our meets, even when you've always shown up ready to go, always helping out the other girls if they had some problems...and that you put forth your all into every single practice run and match."

 _Give me a break_ , a still cynical and hurt part of her thought. _This obviously must be to show your girls in the here and now how perfect you think you are. You're not really sorry._

"I know this might not be much to you, considering how many times I've done it", Coach Phipps continued, "Especially here. I think this is the place where I really failed you."

Triela was stunned silent. Coach Phipps was actually... _remorseful_ for her mistakes. Actually getting off her cloud and admitting she screwed up. To her. 

"I remember last year here wasn't really...", the woman paused, searching for the right words, "...the _best_  experience. Heck, it honestly wasn't the best experience for everyone else on the team, really. And I'm not trying to make excuses when I say this, but...as a person who gets competitive _quite_ easily, I was thinking, ' _What?!_ ' 'These kids have been practicing hard, they're the best team out there, why are they losing?!' And...I thought, at the time, I put my effort into preparing you girls for this meet, so it must be _their_ fault they're sucking." 

 _That's what I thought for a whole year._  

"Granted, some of you weren't taking it seriously, but those who do, especially _you_ , with how fast you go around the track and jump and throw things across the field...", the coach shook her head, "That didn't come to you overnight. That came with hard work. And you always took the time to put that in."

"I saw you run in these last couple of races. That's enough proof of your effort."

There weren't any words that she could say to that. It was mortifying, in one word. 

That, and it felt as though she was reliving that very day once more. The failures, the loss of Maria...

"Aw no baby, don't cry, don't cry...", her former coach was consoling her. 

Denying that she was about to cry was pretty much pointless. There was a hard knot in her throat and she was blinking back emerging tears.

_Damn it! Not here, of all places! That was a year ago, Hilshire, you've got so many better people in your life. And you've been doing so good! What's the problem?_

Coach Phipps put her hands on both of her shoulders. 

"Triela, it's going to be okay", the woman told her gently. "Don't worry about this race, this is the last one then you're out on the field. You and I both know that you're going to do great out there." 

The blonde rubbed her eyes, desperately trying to keep it together.

"You were one of the best runners on my team", her former coach added. "You _still_ are one of the best runners on the track team. I might even go so far to say you're one of the best in Kentucky, considering all the 1st placements you've so rightfully earned. And you'll be earning more this year, I have no doubts of that."

" _Alright girls_ ", the principal of Charles Darwin cut in with his loud microphone, " _we're about to start the race. If you have a baton in your hand, please head to the white numbered cone on your lane. If you do not have the baton, please head to the colored line that should be just a little bit further from the number put in your assigned lane. If you need help, ask your coach, they'll help you figure it out._ "

"Dry your tears", Coach Phipps said with a reassuring smile. "It's okay. No matter what happens out there...I'm proud of you. Go out there, and give the other girls out here your best." 

Triela's feet moved of their own accord towards her coach; and so did her arms, as they wrapped the coach into an embrace. 

_I forgive you._

"Thank you", she whispered into her shoulder. "I needed that." 

"You're welcome", the woman replied, returning the embrace. "Now get on out there."

Triela smiled as she left the hug. "Treat those girls from Green Springs okay. Let them know they don't need to be perfect."

Her former coach nodded, a sign she understood, as Triela waved and walked off to her lane, right where a thin line of pale orange chalk stuck out, somewhat melodramatically brushing out a strand of hair away with a content sigh.

 _I can do this_ , the blonde thought. _I have this part of the meet in the bag. I can finish this off great. I can do this._

" _Alright_ ", the principal said, " _at this time, the girls at the cones need to get into running position and await the sound of the gun to begin the race. I'll leave it to you, Coach Brown. And...yep, that about covers it. Good luck, girls!_ "

It was silent. The coach with the starting gun raised his arm, which held his pistol...and fired the blank. 

Triela watched as Silvia dashed down the track baton in hand, cheering her friend on along with the other girls alongside her cheering encouragement for their respective partners. 

What they had all said earlier about Silvia was right; the brunette was a good distance away from everyone else. Green Springs and Charles Darwin were literally shoulder to shoulder from each other now, not able to gain an advantage on each other, much less Silvia, who was literally a foot away from them. Distance wasn't part of it; she may have been placed the closest to the finish line, but it all depended on the amount of speed one had. The blonde would know from personal experience. 

Silvia was now halfway down the track, running with everything she had in those short little legs of hers. Triela took this as a sign to prepare herself for her turn, bending her knees and slightly outstretching her arm for the baton approaching her. 

When Silvia first reached the finish line, she hurriedly handed the green plastic object to the blonde's eager hand and Triela took off, using Silvia's speed to her advantage. The blonde gripped the baton tightly and pumped her arms up and down in the familiar symbiotic rhythm with the rushed pace of her legs, passing the big white cones by the first five lanes in seconds. Triela took the left turn and quickened her speed just by a notch, the view of Green Springs gaining enough ground to be inches behind her. 

There was loud cheering from all around; and from where she was at, the boys's loud whoops and yells were more prominent. The Woodland Heights team was right in the middle, from what she could see in her peripheral vision. 

For some reason, knowing that winning the race was more important, she acted on pure impulse, stealing a glance of the boys seated there, cheering her on. 

And somewhere to the left...sat no one other than Ian, who was smiling and throwing a fist in the air. The blonde couldn't know for sure, as she turned towards the track and continued running past, but she thought he said something like, "Go for it, girl! Knock 'em dead!" 

Whatever it was, it intensified Triela's determination to finish the race first. 

The finish line where Silvia stood, waving her arms in the air and shouting excitedly, was almost within reach. The blonde made another left turn and sprinted towards her friend, gripping the baton tighter in her hand for good measure. 

Twelve seconds later, Triela placed first, roughly handing the baton over to the awaiting brunette's hand as she slowed to a jog while her friend booked it, rushing swiftly down the track as the other racers finished and handed their batons to their respective partners.

"Hey", one of her opponents breathlessly said to her.

When she turned, she saw it was one of the girls from St. Thomas, who had her hands on her knees and was bent over trying to catch her breath. She smiled at her and said, "You're amazing! Really fast!"

"Thank you!", Triela smiled. 

"You're so welcome! What's your name?", the girl asked. 

"It's Triela", she answered.

"Triela...that's a lovely name!", the girl complimented her. "My name's Valerie."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Valerie. Good job out there."

"Thanks."

"Come on Katrina, you can do it, put a little power to it!", the girl from Green Springs was cheering to her partner. Not a moment later, her opponent from Cedar Canyon was cheering her partner on with a litany of "Let's go Haiyan, let's go!", clapping her hands twice after chanting. 

With that going on, and with nothing else to say, Triela just shrugged and thought, _why not?_ , cupping her hands to her mouth and chanting, "Let's go Silvia, let's go!" and clapped her hands together. 

"Wait, your partner's name is Silvia?", Valerie asked her.

"Yeah...?"

Valerie smiled widely. "That's awesome, _my_ partner's name is Silvia!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! Although we all call her Silvie for short. She's really nice and she's one of the smartest girls in my school."

"That's cool." 

"Yeah, it is!" Valerie turned to where her partner was, just about to make the turn towards the finish line. "Let's go Silvie, let's go!", she chanted, clapping her hands. 

Triela turned around, seeing her Silvia running up to meet her from behind. She got into position and prepared for the baton to be handed to her. 

"Let's go Silvia, let's go!", Triela cheered in the meantime. "Let's go Silvia, let's go!"

"You've gotta...clap too", Silvia teased, breathless, as she handed the blonde the baton. Then she shouted, "Go, Triela!", as the blonde ran like the wind down the track with the baton once more.

 _This is it_ , Triela thought. _This is my last lap. The last race I'm doing. Let's make this finish a nice one._

The finale was a little more challenging. The other girls were more closer to her than last time; one of them she knew was right on her heels. Triela made the turn, free hand clenching into a tight fist determinedly as her shoes pattered on the rough red track. 

 _Run! Run!!_ Run, _you're quicker on your feet than these other girls, come on! Go, go, you gotta win this,_ come on!

The blonde upped her speed, gaining a little ground away from the girl. The boy's track team from her school was just feet away, watching her. She didn't spare a second viewing what was happening; the race was more important. Seeing the look on their faces could wait until victory was achieved. 

And she _would_  achieve it. 

She saw her opponent in her peripheral. The other girl had managed to pick up her pace, gaining a slight advantage over her. 

 _Oh no you_ don't! Not on _her_ watch.

They were approaching the turn now. Triela took it sharply, sprinting with all the speed she had in her, fist tightening as her arms moved as fast as her legs down the track. At this point, she could just _feel_ the adrenaline in her veins and the sweat rolling on her tan skin in salty beads, all the more fueling her absolute need to reach the finish line. 

It was in a matter of time with gritted teeth and bated breath that she had gotten exactly where her opponent from Green Springs was running— _right_ by her shoulder, as if they were cars bumper to bumper. 

They made the final turn of the day, neither girl gaining any footing ahead. That was, until with a frustrated noise, Triela put in just a little more speed, allowing her a little advantage as she approached the finish line, which Silvia and her opponent's respective partners left clear for their arrival, victorious. 

Where she misstepped and fell face first on the track. 

_What the freaking hell?!_

"Are you alright?", one of her opponents asked worriedly. 

"Triela! Are you okay?", Silvia asked, going down to her level. "Can you stand?" She then tentatively put her hand in front of her face and waved it. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Well, she would most likely have a sprained ankle for the next week, along with some nice-looking scrapes on her knees and/or shins, not to mention that that all happened _in front of literally_ everyone _in the stadium_ , including Ian, who no doubt got a perfect view of her klutzy act. 

...but other than that, the blonde felt absolutely _fantastic!_

"Should this count?", one of the coaches asked. _(Was that Coach Phipps?)_ "She dropped the baton."

Triela glanced at the green baton not too far from her reach. 

"At the finish line, though", another coach interjected. "She was supposed to carry it to the finish line, she stepped on it, and that's where she fell. I think that's a fair run."

"Err...alright, then", the same woman who she knew for sure was her former coach acquiesced. "She's tied with Missy, I think. They both crossed the line at the same time."

_...what?_

"Triela", Silvia urgently prodded at her friend. "Can you stand? How many fingers?"

With a sigh, she finally found an answer as she made to get up. "Silvia, I didn't hit my head. I'll be fine. You're holding five."

Silvia put her hand back. Two seconds later, both hands went to her mouth, eyes widening in shock. "Oh my gosh! You've got scrapes on your legs!"

Triela looked down at her shoes, trying to keep it together. "Yeah."

"Here, sweetie", she heard one of the coaches coax from behind her. She turned her around to face her, revealing the coach to be the one for the Charles Darwin girls. "Let me take you over to my office. It's not too far from here, I should have some first-aid stuff there."

If there was anything that Triela really didn't like at that moment, it was pity. She didn't like to be looked at differently, like she was helpless; the worried looks and outwardly expressed concern weren't pleasant sights, either. The blonde was the opposite of those things. She was strong-willed, free-spirited. Independent.

Her injuries could be treated by her own hands at a later time. After all, there was still the events to complete. 

"Um...thank you", Triela forced with a polite façade. "I-I think can handle this..."

"I wasn't asking you", the woman told her, not unkindly. "I'm telling you, those could get infected if they aren't treated. Come with me, we'll put some anti-bacterial stuff on them."

"Just do what she says, Triela", Coach Aprea came and told her. "Go on."

She thought about it. She literally made a fool of herself with imbalance in front of everybody and hurt herself. There was no way Ian would allow her to join his dodgeball team with that act of clumsiness. He'd shun her when she walked by and said hello. She'd be the laughingstock in the entire gym; the boys were probably making jokes to make the preppy girls laugh at as she stood there in plain view. 

And if she refused this offer the Charles Darwin coach was giving her (more like a demand), she'd be making even more of an ass of herself. 

So she obediently forced out an emotionless "Yes, ma'am", and followed the coach, limping, handing Coach Aprea her baton on the way. 

And that was when the searing, undeniable pain pierced her lower belly. 

 _Shit._  

Lucky thing she came prepared, though.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the sophomore had been sprayed with a buttload of smelly, burning Bactine and bandaged up with antiseptic on her shins, knees, and forearms. She'd also had the RICE method applied to her ankle, and had been instructed to walk on it often, as to avoid stiffness. 

Right now, she was avoiding everyone, hand massaging her forehead, other arm wrapped tightly around her stomach. Her phone wasn't helping much, what with the constant dinging caused by various text messages, most likely from Silvia and Chiara both. 

Good friends, they were. Their concern was probably the only one she knew was genuine right now. 

Why was it that when she worked hard and tried to make people proud of her, life decided to make a joke out of her? She had gotten praise and compliments from her team members, opponents, and coaches not too long ago...

...now, she messed that up with a flimsy fall. 

Weren't her ankles stronger than that? They'd gone through so much training, not only in track-and-field, but in taekwondo and some jujitsu? She should know; they were her limbs that she worked with on a daily basis. 

Yet somehow, she misstepped with one of them, and tarnished some reputations once more here. Here, where she vowed to redeem herself, prove herself that she was much beter than what occured last year. To herself, to her friends and fellow runners, to her coaches...

To Ian...

To her family back in Kenova...

...

 _Man._  It was as if she'd never be able to perform well enough for all of them. 

"NO! THAT'S _MINE!_ " 

Her thoughts vanished as she heard someone yelling, as well as a loud bang close to the bathroom. 

"No! I-I'm sorry!" 

"Franco, how could you?!" A familiar feminine voice came to Triela's ears; this time, it sounded like she was close to crying. "You promised me you'd forget about this! You gave me your word!" 

"I know, I just—"

"You just _what?!_  Thought one little drag wouldn't hurt you? That you probably wouldn't spiral back where I first found you?!" 

 _I knew that guy looked suspicious_ , Triela thought. _I'm not surprised he does have a history with drugs. I wonder why this Flanca lady is hanging around sketchy characters like Pinocchio and Franco. But then again..._

"No—"

Triela's phone dinged once again. Pulling out of her pocket, it showed a text from Chiara, threatening to carry her over her back out of the bathroom. She unlocked it and texted her back, telling her she'd be back to the bleachers in two minutes...although she figured it would be a little bit of a lie. 

"I've already called the cops on Pinocchio—", Flanca began. 

"WHAT THE FUCK?! _REALLY?!"_ , a third voice—Pinocchio—roared. "YOU BACKSTABBING _BITCH—_ "

"SHUT UP!", Flanca screeched. "SHUT UP SHUT UP _SHUT UP!_ I'VEBEEN BUSTING MY ASS TRYING TO GET YOU BOTH ON THE RIGHT TRACK FOR CLOSE TO TWO AND A HALF YEARS! BUT NEITHER OF YOU HAVE GAVE A FLYING _FUCK_ ABOUT MY HELP, YOU'VE JUST IGNORED IT AT EVERY GODDAMN OPPORTUNITY!" 

"Flanca, _please_ , I screwed up I know—" 

"You're goddamn right you did! And this is the last time I'm gonna put up with it! Pinocchio's gonna be rotting in a prison cell like he deserves, and you can go kill yourself with an overdose on glue for all I care! I'm done with both of you!" 

The feminist part of Triela was cheering her praises, but the logical part of her was shaken. She didn't know Flanca that well, nor did she know the entirety of the situation the three were in, but she believed Flanca deserved better friends. She didn't need to be hanging around such toxic people. 

"Caterina, please don't leave me! I can change! I swear!", Franco was pleading with her. 

"I'm not going _anywhere!_ ", Pinocchio barked. 

That was when she heard a crack, along with a scream. 

Triela dashed out of the stall and looked out the entrance to a horrifying sight of Pinocchio having tackled Flanca to the concrete and punching her twice in the face before Franco roughly pulled him off and pushed him to the ground, attempting to pin him to the ground but failing to, as the former was much more skilled and agile. He escaped from Franco's attempted hold by pushing him off roughly. Then he got up and pulled out a small knife. 

Training and pure, unadulterated impulse kicked in before logic did in Triela's brain. The blonde made a dash towards Pinocchio, who quickly turned around and noticed, and aimed to slash her with the weapon. But Triela was fast to notice, taking the sharp, metal end of the weapon in both open hands before being punched in the temple with the boy's free hand, forcing her to let go of the weapon and her to stagger to the right with a pained grunt.

She looked up quickly to find him rushing towards her with the knife, the silver blade gleaming in the offending sunlight. Triela dodged the knife wherever he swung it, aiming for a hit to the head when she found it as a vulnerable position, only to have him grab her arm and roughly fling her to the concrete flat on her back. 

"Cops!", she heard Flanca shout out. "Cops are here!" 

At that moment, Pinocchio stopped what he was about to do to her and she saw his feet run away from the scene, the small knife clattering to the concrete. Franco cursed and started to chase after him. 

 _...Cops?_ , Triela thought timidly. She turned to her right and, like Flanca told them, there were two white-and-black police cars parked right by the concrete sidewalk. The front doors to both of them opened, revealing three police officers, one in the first, two in the second, the latter going after Franco and Pinocchio. 

"Put your hands up where I can see them, both of you!", the first cop, a muscular man with a shaved head and tattoo sleeves, shouted at Triela and Flanca as he pulled out a taser.

Triela's heart pounded in fear as she stood up and did what she was told, hearing shouting and a scuffle coming from her left. 

Never in a million years did Triela believe this would happen. She was a good student, obeying the laws and making good grades. She tried her damnedest in every match she had, to satisfactory results...at least...to maybe a select few...

She was taught to use what she learned in her martial arts courses for self-defense—as a last resort. Which...she kinda did...

She just hadn't expected the cops to show up, with a taser pointed at her, and most likely going to _arrest_ her when she was engaging in such activity. 

She had thought last year was a mess. In this moment, she was greatly mistaken.

Today, Triela Hilshire was _screwed._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked focusing on one particular character for one particular chapter for once. I might do this with some later chapters. Next one's gonna go back to three points of view, though. Sorry not sorry. :)
> 
> Ugh, romance isn't really my forte—heck, sap in general isn't my thing...but weaknesses can be improved somewhat. Hope the flirting and sappy feelings weren't too terribly articulated.
> 
> P.S. HEY SINNERS!! LET'S ALL HAVE ANOTHER AMEN TO PRAY FOR THE WICKED!! XD


	8. just a little bit caught in the middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I may or may not be sorry for this.
> 
> Feel free to yell at me for ripping your hearts out from your chests, throwing them on the ground, and doing the Mexican Hat Dance on them at my Tumblr girlswithp90s
> 
> (Jean was SUPPOSED to be in this chapter, but I figured if I put him in that would make me more of a killjoy than I'm already being XD)
> 
> *Trigger warning*: implied self-harm

_Meanwhile..._

 

 

The day had been really great. Angelica learned she had aced two quizzes, one in Geometry, the other one in Chemistry. She and Claes had gotten a lot done on their First Triumvirate project, especially since they had both been getting a bunch of research done for the past two days, and just added the info to the slides, though there was some tweaking involved on some of the slides. But most of the time in the period involved her getting distracted and talking with her other classmates, specifically Triela, albeit via Snapchat, sending her snaps in various filters and blowing up her BFF's phone with text messages on the app. (Some of them went unanswered; that could mean two things: she was either ignoring her, or she was racing. The latter was very likely, as she was at a track meet.) 

She talked with Henrietta, too. (She became aware of her name yet again when she had to remind her, _yet again._ ) The brunette was to work by herself for at least a few days since word was that Elsa was sentenced to...either ISS or OSS...she couldn't remember. She  _did_ remember that she had actually been given the opportunity to work with another group, but she declined—not that she could blame her, really. (Although...it kinda looked like she wanted to work with her blonde friend and Lance for a second when she was asked...) But anyway, they talked across the room, the topic mostly about past memories back at home, and would result in Claes telling her to focus on the project at hand.  _Aaand_ repeat, because just because Claes was more work-minded and introverted, doesn't mean everyone else should.

But that was the least of her worries. The day just happened to get a whole lot more greater. She and Esther, one of the peers in her tennis class, got to the top court in tennis and stayed there for the majority of the period, and a few people, including Coach Rhea, gave her compliments on her skill and abilities. Spanish went by rather smoothly, especially with Fleccia sitting right by her with an arm slung around her shoulders as they made flashcards with Spanish verbs and their English translations, gossiping about Soni LiVolsi, Maria Machiavelli, and a few other girls who were acting like their usual snooty selves...not really subtly, though.

Then they were out. Fleccia started talking about their movie date that was  _supposed_ to happen today, and both girls got really excited. They were planning to see a 7:15 screening of _Lady Bird_ tonight, going for the candy instead of a paper bucket of buttery popcorn and share some laughs and heartfelt moments, getting closer together and maybe holding hands if one cried at one point. Angelica could see those perfect 2+ hours playing out; she even mentally prepped herself and played out what she would say and do if her lady beau's eyes started welling up at such an emotional part. One couldn't be too sure something wouldn't happen...at least, that's what Claes told her once. Although she was aware that she would actually be more likely to ugly sob at something like that. She just hoped her baby wouldn't mind too much.

She did see Henrietta and...was the blonde kid's name Rio?...at the bus loop, so she introduced her to her lovely Fleccia, and they started up a conversation that had all four of them laughing, though half of them (that half happened to be the raven-haired teen and the beautiful redhead) knew exactly what they were laughing about. The other two were more or less being entertained by the former two telling them about some moments with their friends and quoting Vines. 

When she and Fleccia went to catch their bus, they got cuddly on one of the seats, and talked a little more. Triela texted her on the way to the bus's second drop-off, saying that she won 2 out of the 3 sprints, won both of the middle distances and the boys were just starting the distance now, and that the entire meet was going great— _much_ better than last year, in fact. This was, of course, good news to Angelica, who bragged on her to Fleccia, which led to a conversation on when Fleccia actually was part of the track team in her middle school, but how she left to focus more on soccer. 

They hugged and said their goodbyes, both excited for their special night together (which was being chaperoned, but that was the least of her concern), and Angelica walked into her house with a giddy bounce in her step, not being able to wait for their night, and her day as a whole being a whole lot happier. 

What changed that all in an instant was walking into the kitchen for a snack to the sight of her father Marco sat at the kitchen table with his face in his hands, struggling to keep his composure but not doing so well, with three of his coworkers, Amadeo, Giorgio, and Priscilla, crowding around him, attempting to console him. 

For a moment that was far too long, she was stunned into silence. Her brain and the activity it allowed for her to do was turned off completely, having her just stand still like a marble statue at the novel sight before her. She had never seen any of her parents in this state,  _ever._ It was totally new—and not in an exciting way. Not at all. 

Still, Marco obviously needed some kind of help. As his daughter, she should be offering some kind of help, but...

_...how do you help an upset adult?_

"Hey, kiddo", Amadeo's tone towards her sounded uncharacteristically  _gloomy._ So did the trademark smirk he usually put on in casual conversation. "How'd school go for ya?"

"It was good", was her reply, for she couldn't think of anything else off the top of her head to say. She stepped to the side slightly instead, curious as to what exactly was going on, an uneasy feeling settling in like a queasy stomach caused by eating too many sweets. Sweets that she didn't even _have_ yet. 

"Y-yeah, you're probably wondering what's going on here...", her dad's coworker caught on to what she was doing, taking on a more sheepish mannerism. "Um...heh, it's a funny story—"

"Leave us alone", her father's voice was what she heard next. His voice sounded _really_ rough, as if he'd been...

...

No. 

No. That couldn't be it. Marco was a tough guy, _fearless_ even. He knew how to handle just about everything challenging; something that either she or her mother Patricia could get overwhelmed, he could make seem so simplistic. It was one of many things she admired him for, and one of the abilities she aspired to have. 

Now here he was...vulnerable. The opposite of proud confidence. In a state of unhappiness meant for unhappy children. 

"...are you sure?", asked Priscilla in a small, uneasy voice. 

Okay, this could _not_ be happening right now. Angelica _had_ to have somehow stepped into another dimension...heck, she might've stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone because this could _not_ be Priscilla standing two feet away from her. The older woman was never without a friendly smile and exuberant attitude.  _Never_. Just who was _this_ person taking her place? 

She heard an exhausted sigh, breaking her away from her inner thoughts. 

"Yes."

"But—"

Amadeo emitted a sound from closed lips and shrugged his shoulders slightly. 

"It's family", he offered quietly. "Let's let them have their moment."

This didn't seem to be enough for Priscilla; who could blame her? She had one of the biggest hearts Angelica had ever borne witness to, especially when it came to her well-being. But regardless, she took the notion of privacy that Marco wanted, and left with Amadeo and Giorgio trailing close behind. 

"We're here for you, princess", said Giorgio said to her in low volume, putting a hand on her shoulder and using his nickname for her. "Whenever you need us, _any_ of us, day or night, we don't care...we're there for you." 

And then he left. Though, she could tell that all three of them were leaning against the wall, waiting for her to leave the room upset for some reason.

But what _was_ that reason? 

Then she saw the wedding rings on the table. 

With a closer look achieved by tentative steps made to the kitchen table, she saw her dad's glasses had been taken off, and her mom's engagement ring was being held between her spouse's larger index finger and thumb. 

What was worse was with that one closer look, her suspicions about her father's emotional state were confirmed. Even though they were downcast, Angelica could see his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. 

 _What_ happened? 

It was only a heartbeat later she realized she had said that out loud. 

 _You're smart, you should know by now!_ , a voice in head snapped. _Are you blind?!_

"Sit down, Angelica", Marco told her tiredly. 

She did as she was told, setting her diamond-patterned backpack onto the tiled floor and pulling out the chair and taking a seat. 

Angelica couldn't believe it. She didn't _want_ to believe it. Her parents had fought every once in a while; even more so as of late. They weren't pleasant to hear...they always made her feel bad. Sometimes she lost a couple hours of sleep thanks to their fights. It was awful _and_ annoying. 

She had accepted the fact that people would have blowouts—especially one's own parents. She herself had had some spats with Triela and her other friends. But they always got over them and grew closer together. That's what used to happen with Marco and Patricia...before her freshman year ended and summer vacation commenced. 

But never. _Never. Never,_ never in a million years, in any 6th dimension or wherever universe, did she imagine this moment might happen. The moment that...

...

...

Marco took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes before speaking.

"So Angelica", her father began as he set the engagement ring down. "There's...no easy way to explain this, but..." He paused...whether to find the right words or to stop himself from losing his composure Angelica didn't know. It was hard to tell with the blank facial expression he was wearing. 

The silence was getting _really_ uncomfortable to bear now. She wanted him to say something, _anything_ ; though she knew what the next words were going to be, and she really wasn't sure she wanted to hear it, though a sick feeling in her gut already told her what was happening. 

"Patricia and I are getting divorced", he finally said. 

The room fell silent once more. Nothing was said by either of them. Not that either of them could think of anything to say. With a shocking situation of a spouse and parent walking away from the family they helped build and keep together for better or for worse _...for better or for worse..._ what _could_ be said besides...

" _...why?_ " 

It was barely above a whisper, but the question rung in the air louder than a church bell. 

Marco shook his head. "We just...", he started quietly, but he ended up trailing off. "I don't..."

" _Why?!_ " Emotion was put into the question this time as she stood up. "You have fights, sure, but you _always_ work them out, _always!_  What's so different this time that you _can't?!_ " 

"Angelica..."

The black-haired teen knew she was crossing the line, but at this moment she couldn't care less. Her mother had left the house without the most precious pieces of jewelry on her ring finger, and probably wouldn't return...ever again. She believed she had a right to be upset. 

"You can't just... _let_ her go!", she protested, voice starting to crack. "We're _family,_ you don't just _leave_ family!"

"You'll still see her, Angelica", her dad said. "She won't be leaving your life...you just won't see one of us as much anymore." 

"...w-what do you mean?", she asked quietly. 

Marco sighed. Then there was another long pause. 

"There's going to be a battle in court", was what he finally admitted. Angelica could imagine the words tasted bitter in her dad's mouth.  "Over...over who gets custody of you and Perro..."

...

_I don't believe what I'm hearing right now._

_I don't believe this. This isn't real, I can't..._

"But...but we're _both_ yours", she pointed out meekly.

"I know." 

Tears mercilessly stung gray eyes, though the pain didn't compare to the agony in their owner's heart. The anguish and the confusion were both immensely felt, and it was almost too much to handle. 

She and her beloved dog were going to be fought over...in a court of law...by her own parents. Her parents, who had raised her and loved her the best that they could for a little over fifteen years. Fifteen. _Years._  They certainly had their ups and downs, but in the bad moments, her parents were always in her corner whenever she needed them, and together they grew stronger as a family and closer to one another. 

Or so she thought. 

"Marco, _please_ ", Angelica pleaded, smacking both hands on the table. "There's gotta be _some_ way to work this out! You don't need to fight over me, I want to live with _both_ of you!" 

"God _dammit_ , don't you think I _know_ that?", the man cried. 

Angelica was stunned silent. It was so unlike her father to swear at her, especially in a situation such as this one. And his look at her—the redness, the pain inside those eyes...

...

She heard him sigh shakily and saw him rub his eyes harshly. 

"I don't want this either, Angelica", Marco admitted quietly. "I don't want to go to court to decide which one of us gets you and the dog... _believe_ me, I never wanted this..."

As if on cue, Perro walked into the kitchen whimpering, but once he laid eyes on Angelica, the high-pitched sounds ceased as he scampered towards the girl and jumped on his hind legs, putting his front paws on her chest.

"If you don't want this, then why are you letting this happen?", she asked, subconsciously petting her dog's head. "Why are you letting her separate from you? From _me?_ "

She glanced down at the wedding rings still on the table. With those rings, she knew, came a promise. A promise to stick together until death separated them—for better or for worse. Those rings were sacred—and for her own mother to treat those vows like nothing, like they didn't matter, was...flat-out _wrong._  

If something was being done wrong, why wasn't any action being taken to stop it? Isn't that what her father used to do before they got engaged? 

She was feeling so many things right now it was overwhelming. Sad, shocked, confused...if she was being honest, she felt angry as well. Angry that her own mom thought she didn't have to live with her family, angry that her dad was letting her do it...and angry at herself. 

That last one she didn't fully understand, other than that its reasoning was something along the lines of finding a reason why Patricia was wanting to leave. 

"Is there a reason why Patricia's wanting to leave?", Angelica asked quietly. 

"Angelica..."

"Obviously there is", the raven-haired sophomore corrected herself, "but what is it really? Or...what are _they?_ "

"Angelica, it's—"

" _Please_ , Marco", the girl begged, "I can help fix what went wrong. I'll...if one of those reasons is me acting up, I'll stop, I promise. I'll do anything—"

Angelica's desperate rambling was abruptly cut off by her dad slamming an angry fist on the table and standing up, making the wooden chair screech against the tiled floor. 

"Don't you _ever_ say that again!", Marco thundered. "Don't you _dare_ say that this is your fault Angelica, that's all lies and you know it!"

"Then _why._ Is. She. _Leaving_ me?!", demanded the girl. 

"You wouldn't understand..."

"What would I not understand?! I'm not some naïve six year old anymore!" She was screaming now, and her brain was running out of things to say. Her breathing had become ragged, and her voice was wavering pretty badly. 

"I'm not brainless", she said, mainly to herself. "I'm not the smartest person on the planet, but I can figure out what to do to fix things."

"There's _nothing_ you can do, Angelica", grated out Marco. "There's nothing _I_ can do, or anyone else can do. Your mother's made her decision, and we can't stop her." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, sitting back down in the chair. 

"That's not...", the raven-haired girl faltered, bringing them back into silence. 

"Come on, sweetie", Priscilla, who had entered the kitchen with Amadeo and Giorgio not too long ago, coaxed her, gently pulling her arm. "Let's go sit down, okay?"

With a final burst of emotion, the girl roughly pulled her arm away, bringing her fists up for emphasis. 

"You _know_ that's not _true!_ ", Angelica shouted. "You of all people should know that! What happened to never giving up?"

That last question was asked in normal volume, as her throat was killing her and it was becoming even harder to control her breathing.

All what she was saying was not getting through to her father; all the fight and persuasion in her was going down the drain.

Which explained why she was easily convinced to go sit in the living room with Priscilla while Amadeo and Giorgio talked to Marco, Perro following close behind and licking her face when they sat down. 

"It's going to be okay", consoled Priscilla, wrapping an arm around both of Angelica's shoulders. "I know it doesn't sound like much, but it will be. You shouldn't have to be going through this..."

She heard Giorgio say something from the kitchen. Then...

...a muffled sob. It sounded so much like...

...

And that was enough to make Angelica completely lose her composure, leaning on Priscilla and bawling her eyes out like a newborn baby as the young woman held her in an embrace, whispering words that were meant to comfort, but only made her cry harder.

What did she do to have this happen to her family? Why in the world was this happening?

It wasn't fair. She had tried her hardest in life, done what she thought was right, made good grades and performed well in sports. She made great friendships, and she had good relationships with both of her parents. 

She'd thought that went for her parents, too. 

She'd thought wrong. 

Now...this was happening. 

Her family was coming apart at the seams, starting with her mother ripping both her rings off and leaving the house. Leaving her family.

Leaving her.

And the question was ' _why?_ '. But it appeared that she wouldn't have an answer. Not yet, anyway. 

Right now, she just had one of her friends holding her in her arms as she wept, and her pet dog whimpering at what he saw, bumping her with his cold, wet nose.

Though it wasn't what she wanted, _definitely_ not what she wanted, and it provided nothing of comfort whatsoever, though the gesture was something to be grateful for, Angelica guessed she had to let it happen. 

There weren't really any other options she had. Those had vanished, along with all of her enthusiasm and happiness.

* * *

She knew she was being paranoid. Henrietta would be fine. She'd be back at home in one piece, safe and sound, without any harm having come towards her. Besides, Claes was right. People missed the bus every once in a while. And that had come from the bespectacled girl's own personal experience.

...

Oh, who was she fooling? Henrietta was probably out at the bus loop, scared and alone, thinking that her best friend left her all alone to get home and go about her business back at home. Though it wasn't like she had much of a choice...

Grrrr...why couldn't she just _hold it in_  for a while longer?! Or better yet, why not just _go before the bell?!_

...well...at least she was able to provide Claes Jean's phone number, allowing the older girl to inform him of the situation. That way, her friend would return home safely. Though, even with her optimism, she just couldn't shake the feling that she had left her friend all alone at the school's bus stop, even when she had promised the brunette time and time again that she would never leave her for _anything_. 

Yet she left for the _bus_ anyway...forced to by Claes and the selfish awareness of what would happen if Jean and Jose, _Jean_ in particular, found out if _both_ of them missed the bus, Rico's reasoning being deliberate. She, next to Jose, knew better than anyone how seriously Jean took work.

She supposed Claes _did_ have a point concerning Henrietta back there, too. She had said that the brunette was old enough to dig herself out of holes she fell into. There were other students out there, even a teacher or two, who could help her out. She had also informed her that the blonde couldn't save her friend from every situation she got herself into, as Henrietta and everyone else would go through things in life, minor or major, without the aid of those close to them. According to her, that was how humans grew as individuals. 

An angry and defensive part of Rico wished she had fought back for her friend. Claes hadn't known her and Henrietta for a whole week, and she was acting as though she _really_ knew Henrietta and what the real extent of her anxiety led to. 

Rico had helped her deal with it for as long as she could remember. Henrietta wasn't just a friend, she was like her sister. They were never blood-related, but they might as well be. They'd lived with and around each other for their whole lives. They did all the things that sisters did. 

And it felt like she was forced to _abandon_ that precious, beloved sister for a simple ride home...when she had promised her that she would never do that to her. 

She wondered if Henrietta was remembering that promise right now. It was a possibility; she had a rather sharp memory. She was probably wondering why her sister wasn't there at the bus loop—wondering why she was left behind despite that promise. 

The mere thought of it sent ice water through her veins, as well as a feeling of a vice around her heart. 

She had to think positive. She had to. She couldn't spiral down into depression, her head needed to be towards the sun above water. Her friend would be fine. She would return home in one piece—probably with a smile since Jose was the one driving her home. The two were really close; one always knew how to light up their day and vice versa.

And even if the brunette was mad at her, the most important thing to Rico at the moment was Henrietta returning home safe and sound. The blonde held hope that her friend would forgive her at a later time. It had been that way many times—even with her. They had their fallouts and they forgave each other later on. 

She just had to have hope that this time wouldn't be any different. 

For the last few minutes, Rico had been hearing loud music being played near her home, as well as a few people yelling and laughing. Curious, she quit pacing around her living room and looked out her front window through the blinds. 

What she saw just across the street was another duplex of beige color, a bright red truck parked in the left-side driveway that had its trunk open, with three teenagers standing around it. One of them looked familiar; he had black hair that covered an eye, a bright blue beanie on top of it, with a green plastic bottle containing some sort of soft drink in hand. 

Wait a minute...

...

 _Waylon!_  It was _Waylon_ who was out there! Did he live here? Or did one of his friends—or maybe both of them? She didn't know, but she hoped she could figure out by walking over there and talking to the football player she had met on her first day. She hadn't seen him since. 

She made her way towards the door—

_Stop!_

_What are you thinking?!_ , a stern voice asked her. _Going outside to someone's house to talk to them isn't a good choice. What would Jean say?_

 _But...but Jean isn't here_ , Rico thought. 

_Exactly. Which makes it worse! Technically, you're sneaking out when your guardian expects you to stay here and do your homework. You still have an Algebra assignment and a French assignment to do._

_Yeah, but...I still have time, don't I?_

_Rico! Slacking off and putting work off is wrong, and you know it! Forget about Waylon—he's probably going to get a bad grade for not doing_ his _homework. You don't need to be hanging around those kinds of people anyway._

 _But he's really nice!_ , was her inward protest. _I want to make new friends here in Kentucky._

_You already have. What's wrong with the friends you've already made? Claes, Angelica, Triela..._

_Yeah..._

_Yeah. They're good enough for you. Remember what Claes did for Henrietta on the bus? Those are the people you need to be around. Now go do what you're supposed to do._

Rico knew her conscience was right. Maybe not about Waylon, but about what she had to do. She did care about making good grades and passing onto the next grade level. And the blonde knew that in order to do that, she had to do her assignments and make good grades on them. 

She was going to make her way upstairs to her room to get on doing that when she heard a loud scream from outside. 

She turned sharply and rushed to the window, pushing the blinds up to see the tall girl with Waylon climbing into the back of the truck as Waylon stood by the side, looking down at the other boy, who was crouched down and holding something gray in his hands. 

Rico's curiousity got the best of her in that moment; without any second thoughts, she opened the door and walked outside to get a closer look. 

"God, _gross!_ ",the girl groaned. 

"Who could've done this?" The boy on the ground seemed to be asking himself this question rather than for receiving any answers.

"Dude, _nobody_ ", deadpanned Waylon. "Not every animal's death is caused by humans, you know." 

"I know that!" 

"...Yeah, right. Look at its legs, though..."

"What about them?"

"Well...they're bent like—" The boy put his hands up, wrists bent, making some sort of indecipherable noise as the girl pinch the bridge of her nose. 

"Shut up", the other boy pouted. 

"Look at the flick of the wrist", Waylon was singing, twitching one of the bird's clawed feet. "Look at the flick of the wrist, haha...!"

"Ugh, you _moron._ " The boy shoved Waylon away as he chuckled. 

The girl made an annoyed growl behind her hands. 

"Oh stop sniveling, Petra", the shorter boy groused. "I'll wash my hands afterwards."

"Yeah by afterwards, he means after giving it a proper funeral", Waylon told the girl Rico now knew was named Petra. 

The boy turned around to face Waylon, but in that process found Rico standing at their driveway, observing them. 

The boy had wide brown eyes, the color the same shade as his hair. They were darker than Henrietta's, yet they shared a fair amount of purity to them. That seemed to go with his outfit, too—a white dress shirt with a yellow bowtie that had white polka dots as its design, dark brown suspenders connected to a belt of the same color wrapped around dress pants of that color with slightly lighter brown clogs. 

It wasn't polite to stare, Rico knew. But there was something...stopping her from just breaking the ice. There was something about the boy that just...just...

The boy was giving her a...a feeling. Not a bad one, but not a good one, either. She didn't know what it was; she just couldn't put a finger on it.

Whatever it was...this feeling about this boy...it felt...odd. New.

"Heeeeyyy, Puerto Rico!", Waylon waved at her with a toothy grin. "How ya doin'?"

"Ah! Um...hi, Waylon. Fine, I guess", the blonde stammered with a sheepish grin of her own. "How are you?"

"Good! Great, thanks for askin'!"

"U-um...you know her?", the other boy asked. 

"Yeah, I met her in the cafeteria one morning", replied Waylon. "What was it, Monday? Yeah, Monday. We were hangin' around with Lance and Gavin watching Colin's ass get kicked."

The brunette boy sighed. "Why violence inflicted on _anybody_ is funny to you is beyond my knowledge."

"Why you think violence inflicted on someone who deserved what was coming to him _isn't_ funny is beyond my knowledge", Waylon stated as his friend proceeded to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"Hey, Mama. Papa", Petra, who was still sat in the truck, spoke up, resting her forearm on the side. "I don't need another headache."

"Like the one you just gave me when you screamed over a dead bird?", asked Waylon flatly.

"Which got this girl to come over from her house and walk here to see what the heck was going on", the other boy added. 

Rico laughed, despite herself.

"Come to think of it", Petra said, hopping off to the concrete driveway, "the music you're playing with _this_ ", she held up a red, elongated music speaker, as she moved closer to Waylon so that she was in his face, "might've had something to do with it as well. Even though I _told_ you your  _neighbors—_ "she pointed at Rico"—might complain about it. Yet you never listen to me." 

"It's nothing, really", Rico admittted to the three teens. "I don't mind the music. I heard the screaming and thought something was wrong. That's why I came out here..."

But it didn't appear that either Petra or Waylon were paying attention to her, as they were still conversing with each other. 

"I _do_ listen to you, baby", Waylon was telling his, apparent, girlfriend. "Just...not when it doesn't come down to, you know...the deep stuff."

"The _deep stuff._ "

"Yeah", Waylon nodded his head, "that's usually unimportant for the real world. And besides—"he then whispered something in her ear that she and the other boy couldn't hear, the words—whatever they were—making her roll her eyes and sigh. 

"I...don't like the way things are headed here", the brunette boy said, uneasiness apparent in his body language. He then turned shy as he chose to acknowledge her instead.

"This may seem strange, but...would you like some coffee?", the boy asked. "I'm really good at making it."

"This is _your_ house?", Rico inquired, gazing at the half of the house where the truck was parked.

"Yeah", the boy replied. "Wait. Are you one of the new neighbors here?"

"Um...yeah. I moved here from Michigan a little over a month ago..."

"Wow, really?" That seemed to get his attention, in a way that made Rico suddenly feel warm and fuzzy inside. "Me and Waylon used to live there when we were in grade school."

 _Oh_ , so Waylon and this boy were _brothers._  Huh. "Really? Where?"

"Um...Charlevoix. It's not a real big town, but you could always get a good view of Lake Michigan, since it's placed between there and a self-named lake. We always would go boating there, sometimes catch fish, sometimes we'd just chill out and spend time together. Mostly in the summer, it's really breathtaking. I've got some pictures inside that I could show you if you wanna see."

"I'd love to." Rico didn't sound as enthusiastic as she wanted to; that unknown feeling of hers was getting stronger and slightly harder to control. _What_ is _it?_ , the blonde wondered. _And why around this boy? I don't even know his name, and yet I feel...happy? No. This isn't happiness, I feel...nervous? A little bit of both? Is that even possible?_

The boy turned the door handle and pushed open the white door, waving his free hand towards the inside of the house. "After you."

"Thank you." She stepped inside and took a look around the place.

The walls around were a warm yellow color; a perfect choice, in Rico's opinion, as yellow was her favorite color. Half the floor was carpet, the other half hardwood, the former occupied by a leather couch that made a 90 degree angle, plush pillows complimenting it. A TV sat not quite in front of it, its black stand occupied by a white machine that Rico didn't recognize, as well as some white and neon green DVD cases, though she didn't see a DVD player in sight. To the TV's right was a fireplace, its mantle being the place to set family photos and various decorations. There was a rather large painting of a bald eagle soaring over some mountains above all that. There wasn't much to be said for the kitchen, other than that it must've been cleaned recently; Rico could smell a lemon fresh scent coming from it. 

"So, where did you live in Michigan?", the boy asked, closing the door behind him. 

"Lansing", Rico answered, stepping into the living room.

"The capital?", the boy inquired. "That's pretty cool. Not that I don't like smaller towns, but there's so much more opportunities in them. I want to be a musician someday, and the fact that there's actually a Music Theory class helps."

"You know, my friend's actually taking Music Theory too", the blonde said. "She's really good at playing violin."

"Oh cool! Does she play in the band?"

"No, she's really shy. She's not really in any teams or anything, either. But she's really sweet, once you get to know her."

"Huh. Hey what's your name, by the way? I guess I should've asked this earlier, inviting you in for coffee and all."

"Rico Croce." It felt strange to address herself in that fashion, though it wasn't the first time she had done so. But she figured if she and this boy were neighbors, it might be more polite that way. 

"Weird. I though that was a boy's name", was the boy's response as the blonde bit the inside of her cheek to avoid a harsh reply, remembering how well that went with Triela over the phone.

"But in a cool way, it _does_ kinda suit you", the boy added with a shy smile. "I'm Emilio, by the way." 

She felt herself smiling. "Suits you. Your name, I mean." 

At this, her cheeks burned hot. _Did I really just say that?_ , she asked herself.

Emilio didn't seem to take notice; or, if he did, he didn't show it. "Thanks!", he replied, smile slightly growing in size. Then, turning to the kitchen, he added, "I'll get that coffee started. You can set your backpack on the couch there if you'd like." 

That warm and fuzzy feeling was hitting hard now as she shrugged off her plain blue backpack and slung it over onto the couch cushions. And she knew that smile was what made it possible. That _smile_...the one _she..._ made happen...

It normally felt good to make people smile, but _this_...what _was_ it? She didn't just feel accomplished and happy, she felt...

...

... _this._  This stubborn, spidery feeling that had wrapped its tentacles around her. And she still didn't know what it was, other than it having to do with this boy, Emilio, who she just met, who invited her into his home, who was fixing them both cups of coffee (a drink she'd seen others drink, but personally hadn't tasted). 

She wasn't okay. But she wasn't necessarily _not_ okay, either. She wanted to be okay. But it seemed that that feeling was slipping through her fingers, like sand going down to hrough the bottom half of an hourglass. 

 _Does this feeling make people more..._ creative _...with their thoughts?_ , wondered Rico. _Have other people even felt this way before? Is this even_ normal? 

"So Rico", Emilio asked conversationally, going for the mugs, "how do you like your coffee made?" 

Blue eyes widened. _What?_  

"Isn't there just one way to make it?", she asked, careful with her tone. 

"Not necessarily", replied Emilio. "Some people prefer more or less of a specific ingredient...wait." He turned to her. "Have you ever even _had_  coffee before?"

"Uh-uh", the blonde shook her head in honesty. "I've seen other people have it, but—"

"You've never had _coffee_ before?" The boy's tone was incredulous. 

Rico's face flushed a scarlet color. Normally, she'd get defensive things like this. She was aware that she and Henrietta didn't have access to things like cell phones and video games and didn't get into the latest clothing trends or have as much of a taste in junk food as other kids; she'd heard word around her old school. And those words hurt, even if they weren't meant to. The facts hurt a little more. 

Yet she didn't fire back. She was more mindful of what to say around her inviting host. He was being nice by even letting her in and share a beverage she'd never even had before with him. 

"Oh! I'm sorry!", Emilio was apologizing, the words bordering on frantic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to _upset_ you, um..."

A uncomfortably silent moment passed before the brunette grabbed one of the mugs he had pulled out from one of the cabinets. 

"Here", he said. "I'll make yours how I like mine and you can tell me how you like it." His gaze caught hers once again, eyes showing slight nervousness. "Is that okay with you?"

"Sounds good", Rico said, forcing a tight smile. 

That seemed fine enough for Emilio, as he smiled too and resumed making the coffee. 

"So...we're neighbors!" The blonde had forced the enthusiasm in that statement, as she found herself wanting to change the subject and escape the rather awkward silence between them.

"Yeah." The boy was playing along. "I would've gone over there and said hello earlier, but I've been caught up with being a barista to really do anything. And then you know, there's school..." 

Rico nodded sympathetically. "You must be pretty busy."

"I don't mind though", the boy replied. "It gives me something to do other than daily worksheets. It's fun to do, I like helping out and cleaning the rooms up." 

"Is that why you're dressed up like that?", inquired Rico. _It would make a lot of sense if that's the case. Not...that that's a_ bad _thing, just..._

"Actually, I have a free day today", Emilio replied lightly. "I work every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. But my mom's boss is coming over for dinner, so I thought I might dress for the occasion." 

"Oh. I see." 

There was a short pause before Emilio turned around and headed towards the coffee machine.

"Looks like the coffee's done", he said as he pushed a part of it back into position and flipped a switch on its side. He did some other stuff with it that Rico hadn't ever really been observant of, including pulling out a soggy bag with a brown powder and dumping it in the trash can directly in front of the counter's right side and adding some white liquid in a tiny plastic container and adding it into the mint green mug. 

"Here you go", the boy beamed, setting the mug in front of her. "Careful though, it's hot."

"Thank you Emilio", Rico thanked him. Tentative hands carefully wrapped around the mug; its temperature was a warmth that was tolerable for touch, yet strangely...cozy-feeling as well.

"Did you know that coffee used to be eaten back then?", the boy in question told her as he finished preparing his beverage.

Rico looked up at him. 

"The early African tribes used to take the java berries that they found growing on their trees", continued Emilio. "Then they'd grind them together and add some animal fat with it. Then they'd roll them up into little balls and eat them for energy." 

"Really? I didn't know that." 

Emilio smiled. "Well, now you do", he chuckled. 

The blonde let out a chuckle of her own as she felt her face heat up. _This boy seems to like talking nicely to me_ , she thought. _He's nicer than the other boys I've been around. Not that all the other boys weren't nice and all, but...Emilio...he's..._

"That's the first time someone who's not an adult actually appreciated my knowledge", the boy commented. 

"What?" 

"Well...in my house, anyway", admitted Emilio. "There've been...a few instances in school where the facts I've learned over the years are taken to mind. With Waylon...and a select few however...it's not widely accepted."

Rico suddenly felt protective of her host. "Why?", she asked, surprised. 

"That's just how they are", he said plainly. "It's mainly Waylon and his friends that'll say something. My friends, those who don't really hang around my brother, they'll just give me this...like, long-suffering look." He shrugged his shoulders. "But it's fine. I can't shove it down their throats."

"If they're not willing to listen, then what's the point of being friends with them?" The blonde was more confused than anything else. What possessed someone to want validity from people who didn't see how much of a good person you were? More specifically, why would _Emilio_ want to hang around people like that? 

"It's not like _that_ ", Emilio answered, not disrespectfully. "We get along, me and my friends. I pick on them for certain things too. It's just something friends do. And Waylon..." Brown eyes turned towards the coffee machine, where his own mug of coffee was finished. He walked over and took out the mug and began cleaning the machine. 

"...well...he's Waylon", he finished, taking out the soggy bag. "You know what they say: 'You can choose your friends but you can't choose your family.'"

The blonde still didn't understand. Here she was, thinking Emilio was a nice boy, admitting to picking on his friends, and his friends doing the same thing to him. It didn't sound good to her; she had half a mind to grab her backpack and head home.

Yet...there was this... _sad_ feeling stepping foot inside her. But it wasn't just the general definition of sadness; it had some sort of feeling of... _relation_ to Emilio. She knew a little too well what it was like to live with someone who never got pleased with one's accomplishments. Someone who was never, _truly_ pleased.

She knew what it was like to have to live day in and day out with someone who treated her harshly every time she messed up or didn't fully grasp a random concept. That same person provided her with food, water, clothes, and a roof over her head, but never provided anything positive, emotionally speaking.

Just because Rico had accepted her living situation didn't mean she didn't feel jealous, angry, and worst of all...hurt, at times. 

Waylon didn't approve of Emilio. Petra didn't approve of him either, from the looks of it. And to think they seemed like nice people. But earlier, they seemed to be friendly with him. Emilio had gotten a little annoyed with his brother, bringing her back to the question about the teasing. Waylon seemed happy that he had made his sibling that way, laughing at his reaction with the bird. Emilio had said earlier that he did the same thing with the football player. 

She certainly didn't engage in such behavior with her fellow classmates and foster siblings. In her grade school years, the teachers would teach them about bullying. Teasing, she had learned, was a form of bullying. So by that definition, wasn't what Waylon and Emilio saying to each other bullying?

...

This boy in front of her was hard to figure out. His manner towards her was friendly and respectful, yet the words he spoke to his friends and brother and the latter's girlfriend were of the polar opposite. She felt like she needed to leave this duplex; for starters, she needed to think about all of this. And second, she caught sight of the time on the microwave to her right, and it occurred to her that she was in someone else's house. Jean wouldn't be too pleased(not that he ever was)once he found out. 

The question was if that was the case, why wasn't she leaving? Was it because Emilio had just taken his coffee and taken a seat next to her in front of the counter? Gosh _dang_ it, _Emilio._  Every one of her thoughts was _EmilioEmilioEmilio_. And she had no idea _why, why_ someoneshe just met was affecting her in this way, much less how and even more less what this new feeling around this boy even _was._  

_What is this feeling? And why is he causing it? And how?_

"You see that picture over there?", Emilio imquired, pointing towards the bald eagle painting above the fireplace. 

Blue eyes followed the direction of the boy's pointed index finger. In reality, from where she was sat, she could only see the white backdrop and not very much of the bird, but she voiced her affirmation anyway.

"That's mine", said Emilio. "I made that over summer break a few years back."

" _Wow!_ ", an impressed Rico exclaimed. _"_ You _made_ that?"

"Yep! Made it for an art project in middle school and got an A. I got to take it home, and my mom was so proud of me that she got it framed. Pretty cool, right?"

It was at this moment that Rico was able to move again, hopping off the wooden chair she was sat on and walking over to stand across the fireplace where the framed painting hung proudly on the yellow wall. Where she was standing, she could better see the bird, its golden beak wide open in a screech, as well as its gracefully spread wings as it flew over dark-colored mountains below a sky of three or four fitting shades of purple. 

 _Emilio's a real talented artist_ , Rico thought. _I wish I could be as artistic as he is._  

"I've been painting a lot lately", the boy said as he came to stand beside her. "All of that's for art class. It's fun and all, but I prefer drawing by a _lot._ " He chuckled. "It makes less of a mess that I have to clean up."

"You draw too?", Rico queried. 

"Yeah! I've got at least two sketchbooks full of 'em! Come on, I'll show you!" He waved his hand towards the stairs, which were to the front door's right. 

The two kids made their way up the carpeted stairway to the house's second floor, where there were four white doorways, two on either side, spread out a good distance away from each other. Emilio was leading the way, heading towards the farther door on Rico's left, turning the doorknob and lightly pushing open the equally white door to what was his room. 

For the second time of the day, Rico was intrigued by the surroundings in front of her. She only had what was required for a bedroom. She didn't have as much personal belongings as the average kid; of course, there was always gift giving at the foster home she lived in when it came to birthdays and Christmas, but several of those she had willingly given up for the younger residents and her friends as something to remember her by. 

But none of those belongings included a personal desk with a mini bookshelf where several personal belongings sat in those four spaces. She'd also never had a string of Christmas lights hanging across her window before, or a poster of a lion on some sort of shield on her wall over her bed. She'd never had more than one pillow on her bed before, nor had she had a white duvet with green and black stripes. Though, the quilt she still had was nice. She had a closet for her more formal attire. 

At this moment, Rico caught sight of an instrument on top of the neatly made bed. It was a guitar; a simple one that had a pear-shaped base and a hole in the middle. A not-quite plastic triangular object of blue color rested atop it. 

 _He doesn't just draw_ , the girl noted, amazed. _He plays an instrument too! Just like Henrietta! I wonder what kind of songs he likes to play..._

"Oh!"The boy noticed her gazing at the instrument. He moved towards it, gripping the thin part in his hand. 

"This is my brother's", Emilio explained. "He lets me borrow this so I can practice."

"That's so _cool!_ ", exclaimed a grinning Rico. "What kind of songs do you like to play? I'd love to hear!"

The boy wrapped an arm around the base. "Um...I can't play", he admitted shyly, cheeks turning pink.

"Huh? Why not?"

"I...can't really play any songs", the boy explained bashfully, gaze going down to his shoes. "At the moment, anyway. I can only play scales and etudes right now." 

"Oh..." Rico then gave him a reassuring smile. "Well, that's okay. At least you're practicing so you can."

"Yeah..."

They were silent for a moment _(strangely enough, it felt comfortable)_  before Rico mentioned Emilio's drawings, resulting in the boy setting down the guitar and going towards his desk and pulling out a bright blue sketchbook from one of the shelves and opening it to the first page.

"This is a part of a downtown area", explained Emilio. "I think I drew this back in sixth grade when I started doing comic strips for my middle school." 

The sketch was impressive. The imagery and the style were quite the sight to look at, with all the shading in certain places of the tall buildings and the road. The styling of the windowpanes made it _really_ look original; though the edges came off and onto the surface of the building. It could've used some color too. 

Other than that, it was great. Much better than the doodles she tended to draw whenever she felt bored. 

"A-and this", Emilio said, flipping to the next page, "This is Sophia. She used to babysit me and Waylon when we were younger. She'd always help us out with our homework and play games with us outside. And she always made the best pizzas when it was a Friday night."

"She looks so pretty", Rico told him. And pretty she was, especially with how _real_ the drawing looked. It almost looked like she was staring at a photo without the color...on a sheet of paper. If he wanted to be, Rico was sure Emilio would make one heck of an artist. 

"Yeah. She was", he said, his voice small. "Much more in person..."

There was silence again. Only this time, it didn't feel all that great. For some reason, Emilio seemed sad, and she hadn't the slightest idea why. It made her feel sad; she wanted to help him somehow, but it'd be rude to pry. She'd learnt that lesson the hard way. (Though dealing with an upset Henrietta was an exception...)

Although...

Changing the subject, she learned, sometimes put people in a better mood. Maybe it would work with this scenario. 

"Do you ever color your sketches?", Rico asked innocently. 

Emilio's eyes met hers. "Huh?" 

Rico repeated the question before he answered with, "Sometimes. I don't really see the need to color what I draw most of the time. There's hardly any colored ones in this one, but there's a bit more in my other one if you wanna see them."

"I'd like that."

And so Emilio pulled out the other sketchbook he mentioned; a slightly larger, black-covered one with the word 'sketch' in silver lettering. Among those that were colored were a few soldiers in colored armor that he explained were from a video game series called 'Halo', a couple cars and trucks, including the red pickup truck outside his driveway, and a few people, some of them real-looking, some of them from cartoons—though, most of them she didn't recognize, as she hadn't watched television that much since she got adopted, as she was pretty sure she wasn't allowed that, and even when she did see the TV on, it usually was displaying some news station talking about politics or some crazy situation in the country or another country.

It was later on that Rico caught sight of the two other posters stuck on the wall above Emilio's desk. When she asked what they were, the boy had told her that he had had some spare poster board and used them to draw and color the artwork of two of his favorite music albums. It was in this topic of conversation that Rico learned that she and Emilio shared a taste in music. They both liked a lot of the same bands, including twenty øne piløts, her favorite band. They even started playing some of their music while they talked about the band and anything else that they felt they had to say, all the while enjoying the music. 

Emilio even introduced Rico to some other bands that he liked that she hadn't heard of: his personal favorite band, Foster the People, and a band called Mutemath. They were both pretty good—she couldn't really choose one over the other. 

For the first time, in what felt like such a long time, Rico felt comfortable just being herself. More free to express herself without fear—fear of being judged by others...Jean, her peers...even Henrietta and Jose, who treated her like she was actually family.

It was almost funny. She found someone who she had just met, who was providing her a sort of safe space from the harshness of the world...of her household...of her school life...and from her fears. All of that was being provided to her...by someone she _just_ met after school. 

All of that...provided by Emilio. 

It was too bad that that time had to end. About halfway through a Mutemath song, the blonde started to worry about the time. Jean got off work around 6:00, and he'd be home a little bit around that time. She technically had left the house without his say-so, going to someone else's house without his knowledge. It made her feel guilty—fearful of what he would do to her if he found out. That possibility was very high; she was terrible at lying and covering her tracks.

When Waylon shouted from downstairs that he was going to take Petra home, Rico decided she had to head home, too. It _had_ to be close to the time Jean was going to come home, and he couldn't come home to discover that she wasn't home. 

"Emilio", Rico spoke up. 

"Yeah?"

She stood up from the bed, making sure to look him in the eye. 

"I..." _Why am I so nervous? I thought I was over that with him. I know him well enough, a goodbye should be easy, right?_

_...right?_

"I...I need to head back home now", she forced herself to say. "My guardian's probably wondering where I am." 

 _God, I'm blushing_ again!, cursed the blonde. _And I can't even tell if I'm nervous or embarrassed anymore!_  

"...oh", was all he said, looking down at the ground and blushing with her. "Yeah, yeah, you should probably go..."

"I'm sorry." She made a move to head downstairs. 

"No no, don't be sorry!", Emilio reassured her. "We both lost track of time. And it's about time for my mom to come home with her boss anyway." 

The boy's blush got a shade darker as he smiled bashfully at her. "I had a really fun time with you, Rico. You're a pretty cool girl."

The girl's eyes widened, and her jaw fell slightly agape. 

 _He thinks I'm..._ cool?

A few people had called her that once or twice, and of course it made her feel good. But...why did such a generic compliment from Emilio feel like she got a reward?  

"Thank you", she grinned, cheeks burning. 

"Do you want me to walk you out?", Emilio asked. 

" _No_ ", she said sharply. As soon as that word slipped out in that tone, much to Emilio's surprise, she backtracked. "Um...no thanks, I...I can get there. I live across the street, after all." 

Emilio seemed satisfied with the answer, shrugging his shoulders with an "Alright." 

They made their way downstairs, Rico rushing down them and to the living room to grab her backpack that she set on the couch, slinging the straps around her shoulders and making a beeline for the door. 

"Hey Rico", Emilio called. 

The blonde stopped dead in her tracks, turning around to face him. 

"Yeah?" _No offense Emilio, but this better be good._  

"I sit by the lunch line closest to the restrooms in the cafeteria", the boy stated. "So if you need somewhere to sit, you're welcome to have your lunch at my table."

"Oh." Well, she believed she could classify that as useful information. She'd love to sit by Emilio at lunch time and have more conversations like they did today. The mere thought made her feel that new unknown feeling all over again. 

"Well...I better get going", Rico said, turning towards the door. "Goodbye, Emilio."

"See ya around, Rico", he replied with a wave. 

The blonde blushed. _How many times have I done that today?_ , she wondered as she forced her legs to move towards the door. She then turned the door handle and stepped outside, closing the door behind her and sprinting towards her house, where the driveway was, fortunately, still empty of any cars. 

As soon as she stepped foot inside, Rico realized she didn't feel any remorse for being in Emilio's house. Nor did she feel any sense of guilt. She did before, but now...any trace of it was just... _gone._  

In fact, she wasn't even concerned as to why she wasn't feeling any of those things. All she really felt at this moment was...

...

...this feeling. This new feeling that hadn't passed for a number of hours. 

It must've been mixed in with a sense of happiness too, because it felt just a little bit more...bigger and...brighter.

...

Yeah, she was happy. Happy that she found a new friend. Happy that she found someone who she felt she could have a great relationship with for a long time. 

Wait... _relationship?_  

Yes, a relationship. By its definiton, it was the way people were connected—how people interacted. She and Emilio had interacted in a friendly manner. So did she and Henrietta, and she and Claes, and she and Angelica.

So why did that word when referring to Emilio and her feel so... _different?_

...

This boy was certainly unique, making her feel the way she did around him and all. 

And for some reason, Rico didn't mind the feeling. 

In fact, she wanted to feel that way again. She wanted to be around Emilio again.

...

And she wanted more memorable days like this one.

Because for some strange reason, Rico had an idea that days spent with Emilio were going to be the best days of her life. 

* * *

Henrietta sat on a plush blue-green chair in the waiting room of a hospital, hunched forward with her elbows pressing into the space just above her kneecaps, the heels of her palms pressing against her tightly shut eyes, hot, salty tears cleverly managing to sneak past and seep out. Sharp gasps and silent sobs escaped her every few seconds, the behavior teetering on the edge of hyperventilation. 

Jose's efforts to soothe her—the rubbing on her back, the low-volumed assurances—were in vain. Normally, she'd be calmed down...or at least...not so distressed...in a matter of minutes, but now...for some reason, it was pretty much useless, and it made her so _frustrated—_ angry even. Her guardian's consoling actions were always able to chase away her distress...but _this..._

The memory of what landed them both here was so fresh in her mind. It was assaulting her and haunting her since she stepped into the car, and it just wouldn't _stop._

It was as if it _wasn't_  all over...that she was still at the front of the school, bearing witness to something so _horrible._

But witnessing what happened wasn't the worst part. 

What was the worst was the _terror_ —the strongest terror she'd ever felt—of even going back to school, as it could happen to _her_ next. 

 _She rushed out the door, determined not to miss her bus._   _Her floral patterned backpack jostled this way and that behind her as she dashed to the bus loop, the felt straps clinging desparately to her small shoulders as if they were reins being fiercely gripped by the rider of an unbroken horse._

_When she finally reached it, nerves spiking in fear just a little, the first thing she did was look for her friends. Rico had promised her that she'd be standing across the door in wait...now she wasn't. It wasn't unusual for her to go around and mingle with others if there were any. She did that a lot back at their old school; her friend was just a sociable person._

_That didn't mean she didn't get a little annoyed at this. The behavior made her afraid—afraid that she'd be left alone by the one friend who had promised to always stand by her._

_She looked around the bus stop, but Rico and Claes weren't anywhere to be seen. There were only a few kids left waiting for their yellow bus to pick them up. They had to be_ somewhere _around; the bus couldn't have gone while she was using the restroom. Her friends couldn't have hopped on and rode home without her._

 _Left and right she looked around. She looked carefully for specific details she could make out on the remaining peers around her while trying to remain calm. The latter she wasn't doing so well at; despite the deep breaths—in through the nose, out through the mouth like Jose told her—panic was increasing_ _inside her._

 _No blonde, hime-style haircut reached her line of sight. No bespectacled girls with black hair were standing around or sat on the concrete. She_ did _spot a blue backpack with owls and feathers—a matching description of Claes's backpack—but with further examination, it belonged to a_ boy _...a boy on the chubby side with a navy blue hoodie and thin glasses._

_Henrietta was starting to get really scared now. Her breathing was getting quicker and more shallow, her legs were starting to tingle, making them feel wobbly, and her eyes were quickly starting to fill with tears. She'd looked everywhere for her friends, and they were nowhere to be found._

_And that meant..._

_"Henrietta?"_

_She jerked her head up with a sharp gasp at the sound of her name. In front of her was a girl standing on top of one of the concrete and brick benches leaning against a metal light pole right next to it, her gaze at the brunette matching her concerned tone._

_Wait a second...Henrietta recognized this girl. Wasn't she one of the girls that came to her desk when Elsa made her upset two days ago in her World History class?_

_The girl jumped off the makeshift bench and started to slowly walk towards her._

_"Henrietta?", the girl repeated. "What's wrong?"_

_Henrietta sniffed and wiped at her face. The girl looked around, as though she were also looking for someone, before turning back to her._

_"Did you miss your bus?", the girl asked carefully._

_The brunette nodded, feeling humility. This girl had already seen her cry once—and now she was seeing her get upset over missing her bus. The average person would be upset too, but they wouldn't ever start crying over it like she did._

_She was probably thinking Henrietta was a bit of a crybaby right now. Not that the brunette could blame her for it, even though_ that _being said out loud would hurt her feelings easily. She was really emotive and anxious about a lot of things, and she couldn't really control that._

_"No need to get upset", the girl told her in a monotone voice. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone._

_"I'll let you use my phone to call your parents so you can get home", the brunette explained. "What's their number, I'll type it in for you."_

_Oh, dear_ God _no. Henrietta hadn't even thought about_ that _part._

_Thanks to her missing her bus, she had no way of getting home other than...than calling Jose from this girl's phone._

_At this time, Jose was at work, getting important things done for his company. That important work didn't end until later in the day when it was dinner time. If she called him and told him of her problem caused by her carelessness, she'd be disturbing him from his job by asking him to leave and getting her home._

_Which was a pretty selfish thing to ask of him. She couldn't imagine he'd be too happy with her._

_She gasped—loudly—and crumpled to the ground sobbing, hands tightly clutching her temples as if she were attempting to prevent her head from falling apart._

_She'd screwed up bad. She'd screwed up very,_ very _bad._

_Why did she have to go and miss her ride home for the bathroom? Why didn't she think of doing her business beforehand when her bus would be a while from the school?_

_She was going to be in so much trouble when she made that call. She wanted more than anything to go back in time and correct her mistake to avoid all of this. To avoid being left behind...to avoid disappointing Jose and pulling him from work thanks to her stupidity._

_"Henrietta", she heard the girl say to her. The brunette violently shook her head as she let out a half-suppressed sob._

_"Henrietta."_

_She looked up, slowly, tentatively at the girl, who was kneeling at her level with stony blue eyes._ _That gaze reminded her of Jean, Jose's brother, and how he regarded her with that look. It was a wonder how Rico could handle that alone; she lived under his roof, dealing with more than that icy cold look day in and day out._

_And she really feared if that was the kind of look she'd get from Jose once she got in the car._

_"Henrietta", the brunette in front of her slowly began. "Missing_ _the bus isn't that bad. It's not like the world's gonna end or anything."_

 _"B-But...", the brunette stammered between uneven breaths, "but it_ left _, and-and..."_

_"Are you scared of how your parents are gonna react?", the girl asked._

_There weren't any words said for a few moments, as the brunette was trying to calm down enough to respond, though that took a while, with how upset she'd gotten over how Jose was going to react over her missing her bus, something that was so_ simple _to avoid._

_"Guard...Guardian, yeah", she was able to admit softly afterwards. "He's-he's working at this hour, and I don't...I don't want to disturb him..."_

_The blue-eyed girl looked at her for a moment, as if she were trying to analyze her. (Why, she wouldn't know.) Then they dropped to the ground, as Henrietta released a shaky breath she hadn't known she'd been holding._

_"Well", the girl finally said, still maintaining that monotonous tone as her eyes returned to Henrietta, "I can't promise that he won't be...disappointed..."_

_At these words, the brunette squeezed her eyes shut as another sob escaped her, though she didn't allow any sound out._

_"But", the girl continued, "I_ can _tell you that you're going to have a long walk ahead of you if you don't call him."_

_Henrietta covered her mouth with her hands in an attempt to stifle any cries and gasps that might come out. As much as it pained her to admit to herself, the girl from her World History class had a point. She lived a good distance away from her home, and she didn't even know the streets her bus took to get there, especially since the bus went to different houses to drop off other kids before it dropped off her and Rico._

_Walking wouldn't get her anywhere; she'd surely get lost on the way._

_So, needless to say, Henrietta had no choice but to call Jose and tell him of her situation._

_"Okay." The answer was no louder than just above a whisper._

_The girl stood up and tapped on her phone's screen. Henrietta took this as a sign that she should stand up as well, so she did so, wiping her eyes and sniffing away her emotional outburst._

_"What's the number?", the girl asked flatly._

_Henrietta paused. Cell phone use was rather foreign to her, although she saw plenty of kids in middle school and this school, of which she was still a new student to, use them. She and Rico both didn't own one; Jean and Jose did; they made calls to coworkers and texted each other and such. But when it came to her and Rico having cell phones of their own..._

_Jean would surely never give Rico her own, and Henrietta never asked Jose. They were pretty expensive, and she'd never ask for something that cost as much money as the typical cell phone did; he showered her with plenty of gifts, and she was grateful for all of them._

_They all made her happy enough._ Jose _made her happy enough._

_Though neither party was going to be feeling anything remotely happy with this phone call._

_..._

_"Here", she said to the girl. "I'll type it in for you."_

_The girl eyed her for a moment before handing the device to her._

_"Thank you", quavered the brunette, taking the device in both hands. The screen was white, with the numbers 1 through 0, as well as the star sign and number sign inside decently-sized circles. They almost looked like bubbles._

_She tapped on the circled numbers, the designated numbers making up the memorized phone number appearing at the top of the screen. With a deep breath, her thumb pressed the green button on the bottom of the screen once Jose's phone number was fully typed out._

_The screen's color morphed into a dark shade of blue, with the phone number appearing above six numbers doing specific functions that Henrietta didn't know; but figuring them out wasn't important. She tentatively raised the phone to her ear, hearing a long beeping noise._

_He wasn't answering. Another long beep. Then another._

Please pick up the phone _, Henrietta begged to herself._ Please, answer the phone, Jose. _She didn't want to be making this call, but she really didn't want to walk home...or worse, stay at the school longer than she needed to...much more._

_There was another long beep. Silence. And then there was a click._

_"Hello, this is Jose Croce", the voice of Henrietta's guardian came to her line of hearing. "I'm unable to come to the phone right now, as I'm likely busy with work. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Until then, have a nice day."_

_"At the tone, please record your message", a woman said on the other line. "When you are finished recording, press the 'end call' button, and your voicemail will be sent."_

_So...Jose hadn't answered his phone, just as Henrietta predicted. Now, her best option of informing him was leaving him a...voicemail...where she'd apparently be doing all the talking, and it would be sent to Jose to listen to._

_She heard a beep...a different-sounding one from the long, deeper sounding ones when she attempted calling him._

That must be the tone this girl's phone was talking about _, the brunette thought. She figured she should be speaking right now, so she started thinking of what to say._

_"Hey, Jose", Henrietta greeted with a perkiness she didn't feel. "It's me, Henrietta."_

_"You need to hurry up now", the girl told her. "I see my bus around the corner."_

_The brunette nodded her head before continuing._

_"U-uhm...I was coming back from the restroom", she explained. "A-and I came back and...I didn't see Rico or Claes around...or anyone else that rides my bus, for that matter..."_

_There were tears welling up in her eyes again; she tried to blink them away and tried to keep her breathing steady. She couldn't break down again._

_"I-I missed my bus", the brunette said with a sigh._

_The girl tilted her head in the direction of the bus stop, indicating that her bus was getting closer._

_"I'm sorry, I'm_ really _sorry", apologized Henrietta, voice thick. "I was irresponsible, I didn't mean to do it, I—"_

_"Henrietta", the girl said, pointing her thumb in the direction of the bus stop, where her bus was starting to drive up._

_"C-Could you please come p-pick me up from school?", the brunette timidly asked. "It doesn't matter when, just...I-I need a ride back home...please?"_

_Henrietta removed the cell phone from her ear and handed it over to the taller brunette, who took it and tapped a button on it. It was with some embarrassment that Henrietta realized that she hadn't ended the voicemail; though, she didn't really know how to do that—but, it was sent now._

_"Now you need to go sit in the office and wait for him", the girl told her as she started walking towards the bus. "The door should still be unlocked."_

_And with that, the girl hopped on the bus along with the rest of the kids, leaving Henrietta alone._

_She headed towards the double doors, pulling one of them open; it was unlocked, just like the girl said._ Thank God.

_Henrietta walked into the hallway, passing a glance to the classrooms and on either side. She made a right turn, where several rows of green lockers lay ahead, as well as more classrooms, the bathrooms, where she went ahead and missed her bus...as well as some drinking fountains. She kept going straight down the hall before taking another right, then a left, down a really long hallway with some more lockers and classrooms and other hallways before finding the front office._

_She pushed open one of the double doors, walked over and took a seat on one of the leather chairs in the lobby in front of the main office._

_Now all she had to do was wait for Jose to pull into the parking lot and take her home._

_She continued to worry about what was to come when that happened. She had even started worrying that Jose wouldn't ever get her message...maybe because he wouldn't check his phone and head home, expecting Henrietta to already be there waiting up on him. Or maybe, his phone wouldn't notify him of the voicemail he received because his was different than the girl at the bus stop's phone, making the message pointless._

_Or maybe...Jose would get the message...but would ignore it and leave her here._

_That last thought, the more rational, less anxious part of her said, was completely untrue. It was false in every sense of the word. Jose would never abandon her, or let her be left inside a public building all by herself; he thought the world of her. How he treated her, and the things he gave her were proof enough of that._

_But that voicemail she left and the mistake she made were a less than thankful way of repaying all of that._

_She heard something outside. It sounded like someone was yelling._

Looks like I'm not the only one stuck here after school hours _, Henrietta thought. It brought her a little comfort, despite herself._

_A moment later, a boy with brown hair wearing a yellow hoodie and jeans came into her view. He was smiling and laughing about something; what it was, Henrietta didn't know._

_A second later, the boy cupped his hands over his mouth and went away from the doors. Curious, the brunette stood up and started making her way to the front doors. Social interaction wasn't a strong suit of hers, and she wasn't the kind of person to eavesdrop on what others did, but for some reason, she wanted to do the latter. The boy most likely wasn't alone, as Henrietta heard other voices outside; two of them appeared to be cheering._

_Surely the kids outside wouldn't mind Henrietta taking a peek at what they were doing. They probably wouldn't even notice her...unless she talked to them, which she had no interest in doing._

_Yeah...all she'd be doing was looking at what they were doing. Nothing else. Then she'd sit back down and wait for Jose to pick her up._

_She leaned close to one of the front doors and looked. In both directions, she couldn't see anything other than brick wall. There weren't any other students around the front doors._

_However, the brunette could hear what was going on a bit more clearly. There was someone talking...probably that boy she had seen...but the way he was doing so wasn't normal. It was as if he were doing it to...a tempo of music, of some sort. Like what she saw on her first day at Woodland Heights in her Health Science class._

_Speaking of tempos, Henrietta could faintly make out something that sounded like one, though it didn't sound much like the traditional drum. If it did, she figured it would be a bit louder._

_She'd heard of beatboxing; in fact, there was one boy back at the foster home that did that a lot, making spitting noises and others with his mouth to make a beat. He was, admittedly, pretty good at it; Henrietta found it quite entertaining._

_Maybe that's what that boy she saw was doing right now._

_Although...she'd never seen someone actually talking to the tempo a person made by beatboxing. That would certainly be something entertaining to see. It certainly was for the two girls she heard cheering loudly._

_Slowly and carefully, as if not to spook the kids outside, Henrietta pushed open the door and stepped foot on the concrete as quietly as she could. Once she was fully outside, she carefully closed the metal door with both hands on the handle, the mechanism clicking as it shut._

_That meant she was locked out. She couldn't get back inside and wait._

_..._

_Fine by her. No problem waiting outside the school. She didn't have to go a further distance out to the car. Jose could have a clearer view of her when he pulled up to the front._

_Carefully—though, not as carefully as closing the door—Henrietta made her way past the brick walls in front of the door, the sounds outside becoming clearer in the right direction. She turned her head that way before going over to the right brick wall, leaning over slightly and peeking her head past it._

_What she saw had her_ floored.

_The boy in the yellow hoodie was, in fact, beatboxing, circling around two girls—one was blonde, the other had black hair, both wearing lilac tank tops—who were waving their arms around in an enthusiastic manner and moving their hips from side to side._

_There was another boy, who had dark skin and was wearing a striped polo shirt and tan khakis—Lance; she recognized the name and the face from her World History class...he was Rico's partner on that project!...whose back was about two inches away from the brick building, shouting out words to the tempo of his friend's made-up beat..._

_...all the while pinning_ Elsa's _arms behind her back, forcing her to stay on her knees and watch the girls dance and his friend beatbox._

_The boy in the hoodie was coming towards the brunette's direction. She quickly moved her head out of sight and pressed her back against the wall with wide eyes as her breathing started to quicken yet again._

_So many thoughts ran through her head all at once. Most of them were questions, questions whose answers were so unclear. For example...why was this even happening? Why did she of all people have to be here and have this happen while she was waiting for a ride home? Why were these kids even doing this to Elsa?_

_True, Elsa wasn't her favorite person on the planet—_ that _was Jose—heck, she wasn't really_ anybody's _favorite person as far as she knew, but why were these kids deciding to force her to listen to one of them beatbox? It hardly made sense, especially since she didn't seem too happy to be there._

_The girls were cheering again, and the beatboxing and Lance's rhythmic talking had stopped. The brunette didn't take that as a good sign, staying right where she was._

_"Do another one, Lance!", one of the girls cajoled._

_"No, please don't", the other girl snapped. "You promised to take me and Maria to the mall ten minutes ago. Instead I have to sit through your shitty rapping and Gavin's equally shitty beatboxing."_

_"Wasn't you the one who said we needed to do this?", the boy in the yellow hoodie named Gavin asked._

_"No, you butthurt_ brat _", the disinterested girl barked. "Babe, are you gonna let him talk to me like that?"_

_"Not a chance in the whole wide world, Soni-pony", was Lance's nonchalant response. "Gavin. Back off, will ya?"_

_Gavin audibly gawked. "I just asked a question, that's it bro!"_

_"No. You_ sassed _me", the girl iterated._

 _"You_ sassed _her!"_

_"Shut up, Lance!"_

_"Can we just do another jam?", the more cheery girl asked innocently. "You know, giving the person who deserves what's coming to her...you know...what's coming to her?"_

_There was silence. One that made Henrietta feel uneasy and nervous. She tentatively peeked past the wall to see Elsa still pinned by Lance, Gavin standing a few feet away looking shocked, while the black-haired girl was shrugging at the blonde girl, who had her hands on her hips with a miffed expression._

_"Maria", the blonde girl said, voice clipped. "You. Are the most moronic little_ twat _I have ever met. What_ he _said—" she pointed at Gavin, "was like, undermining me. Which is rude. But I don't even know if you know that, considering you like to stick your head in your ass like it's a hat...sticking up for a_ boy _instead of your_ best friend _and all."_

_Maria, the black-haired girl, slowly nodded her head in understanding. While she was doing that, her eyes caught sight of Henrietta observing them. Their eyes locked onto each other, one gaze incredulous, one shocked and fearful._

_"Huh?!", the blonde asked Elsa, who was still pinned by Lance. Her voice sounded furious. She stalked towards the blonde shouting, "What was that, you feckless_ pussy?! _"_

_"Hey guys!", Maria called, pointing her finger at Henrietta. "Guys, some girl's watching us!"_

_Henrietta's blood had run cold, though her heart was pounding at an accelerated rate. She wanted to escape; that was all she was thinking about right now...but for some reason, it was like she was turned into a marble statue. She just couldn't move, she was paralyzed with fear._

_"Say it out loud, bitch!", Lance snarled down at Elsa. "Spit it out,_ now! _"_

_"Guys, Maria's not lyin'", called Gavin, moving towards the brunette. "Someone's been watchin' us!"_

_Movement came back to her at just the right moment. Henrietta scrambled frantically towards the front doors, pulling the metal handles—only to have them just click, signalling repeatedly that they were locked. She quickly resorted to banging on the glass window before Gavin came up behind her and started pulling her towards the grass._

_"Let me go!", the girl shouted, half-scared, half-angry, as she struggled to get away. Those efforts however, were fruitless; Gavin had quite the grip on her backpack and her arm, and quite the strength to pull her to where he wanted her._

_"Let me go!", she kept shouting. "Let me_ go! _"_

 _Gavin scoffed. "Bitch, please", he sneered, directing her towards Maria. "As if we ever let potential snitches get away_ that _easily."_

 _"Bitch, we_ never _let snitches get away", declared Maria, clasping her hands on the sides of the brunette's shoulders. "We have ways of sniffing them out."_

_Her gaze went to Lance, as did Henrietta's, right at the moment the blonde girl viciously whacked Elsa with the blonde's own backpack, which had previously been discarded on the ground with her jacket, scarf, and beret._

_The brunette's eyes widened as she sharply gasped in absolute horror and shock. These kids weren't just mean; they were_ vicious.Violent. _And they actually found_ joy _in inflicting that kind of behavior on Elsa._

 _It was difficult...no, it was_ awful _to watch her getting hurt, even after she regarded her very lowly, as she did with everyone else._

 _Elsa's body jerked towards the left thanks to the violent blow, the blonde letting out a loud noise of pain. Lance then harshly_ _pushed her pinned body down to the ground with his foot, sending her face first into the dirt with a scared yelp._

 _"Stop it!", exclaimed the terrified brunette. "Stop it, you're_ hurting her! _"_

_The blonde and Lance looked at her with very menacing eyes._

_At that moment, Henrietta regretted ever even saying anything. The two of them slowly approached her as she gulped and watched them move closer to her with absolute fear in every fiber of her being._

_They were going to hurt her too, somehow. The brunette was absolutely sure. They were going to do the same thing they did with Elsa to her and they were going to make sure that she regretted ever finding them after school._

_"Hey, Lance?", Maria asked._

_"Yeah, Maria?"_

_"What do we do with snitches?"_

_"Snitches get stitches and end up in ditches, you dirty-ass bitches", all four of them said together._

_The motto was obviously aimed at her, as they were all eyeing her as they recited it. The brunette couldn't bear to keep the eye contact; she'd never seen so much_ anger _in_ anybody's _eyes. She'd never seen such a grim display of rage on another person before, either. It was absolutely horrifying for her. There were no other words she could think of to describe what was happening._

 _Tears yet again welled up in her chocolate brown eyes. She should've never missed her bus, otherwise she'd be safe and sound in her home, where she was_ supposed _to be quite a while ago—just finishing her homework and waiting for Jose to return home._

_Speaking of which, she so desperately wished Jose was here right now to take her away from here. She wished he would come and save her from these kids, take her home and reassure her that she was safe and everything was going to be alright. She wished he would promise her that he'd never let anyone hurt her, and that he'd always be there to protect her._

_But no matter how badly she was wishing it...it wasn't happening. And if it did, she was deathly scared that he'd be too late and she'd end up in some ditch in the middle of nowhere, badly hurt with no one to help her._

_"That's_ right _", Maria declared._

_"Get on your knees, princess", Gavin commanded her._

_The brunette shook her head wildly as she tried to break away._

_"I said get on your_ knees _, princess", the boy's tone immediately turned demanding. His grip on her backpack vanished, as he chose to twist her arm behind her back and threateningly hover_ _his elbow over hers. "Do it! Or the arm breaks!"_

 _"Okay, okay!", the girl tearfully relented, going down and letting her knees touch the hard dirt and blades of grass. "I'll do it, I'll do it, I'm sorry! Just please don't hurt me,_ please! _"_

_The brunette figured it was best to do as they said. She had just seen what they did to Elsa—she was aware of what they were capable of doing to the blonde, and what they were doing to her. She had no way out; she couldn't run away, they'd surely catch up to her and harm her somehow. And there was no way she could escape being pinned the same way Elsa had been pinned._

_Oh,_ where _was Jose?! She really needed him right now, she was so_ scared! 

 _"Arrrggh!", the blonde groaned loudly in irritation. "I can't_ believe _this!" She pointed at Henrietta with an accusatory glare._

 _"_ See _what you did?!", she grumbled. "Who knows when they're gonna stop this! I just wanted to go to the mall and get some faded blue jeans from Forever 21 at 4:15, and because of_ you _I'm stuck here longer than I had to be!"_

_The brunette looked down at the ground, shutting her eyes tight._

_"Ugh! You are_ so _narcissistic!", the blonde ranted. "Just like every one else in this school! I swear to God I'm gonna ask to be homeschooled!"_

_"Aw come on baby", Lance drawled. "Don't say that, I'd miss you!"_

_"I wouldn't", the blonde replied dryly, glancing over at her boyfriend pointedly._

_"You're just sayin' that 'cause he ain't takin' you to the mall yet", quipped Gavin._

_"Shut up, Gavin!", both Lance and Soni snapped at their friend. Lance then pointed his finger towards Elsa, who was still lying in the grass. "Get your lazy, fat ass over there and make sure she don't run away!"_

_"Okay." Though Gavin sounded reluctant to do it, he walked over to Elsa and pulled her up by her braids back up on her knees._

_Henrietta couldn't take her eyes off of the blonde girl. Her face was peppered with dirt, but that wasn't what sent a chill up the brunette's spine._

_There was blood trickling down Elsa's chin, the source being a wound on her bottom lip. And also, her right eye was swelling pretty badly._

_As if that wasn't bad enough, it was the way she was staring back at Henrietta that was the most disturbing. There was no emotion that she could find in her eyes._

_There wasn't any annoyance or anger. There wasn't a trace of sadness or any signs of Elsa being scared. She didn't appear to be analyzing her, either._

_Elsa's eyes were...blank. Devoid of any emotion. Almost hollow...or vacant._

_And really, if Henrietta was being fully honest...Elsa had looked upon her with absolute contempt. But she 100% preferred Elsa giving her a look of contempt than..._ this.

_Henrietta kind of wanted to ask her why Elsa didn't feel anything, even after all these kids were doing to her. But the brunette really didn't want to, considering how they'd react to it. They'd probably hurt her like they did Elsa...maybe hurt the blonde as well._

_"Yeah!", Lance was saying. He and his girlfriend had been talking as the brunette was looking at Elsa, but she'd tuned them out somehow._

_"You have 5 minutes", the blonde girl warned. "Or I'm not showing tomorrow night."_

_"Yeah, yeah." The blonde stalked off towards a white minivan parked right by the concrete sidewalk. He then turned to Henrietta, the grip on her arms being tightened just a little behind her._

_"So!", Lance began with a chipper tone. "You're the girl that_ that _shitstain made cry, right?"_

_The brunette nodded hesitantly._

_"Ha. Guess you're in for a real treat then,_ crybaby _", the boy cajoled._

...crybaby?

 _"I'd_ love _to do another jam session,_ just _for you", Lance continued, "but I gotta take Soni to the mall soon, or else she ain't goin' to my football game. It's a home game, ya see. It's very important." He shrugged. "Y'all know girlfriends, right though? They're more important."_

_"Get on with it, Lance-o!", Gavin called out indignantly. Maria followed suit with an equally snappish, "Just get on with it!"_

_"Okay, okay", Lance relented, waving his hands. "So ya caught us doin' what we was doin' to the public menace over there, right?"_

_Henrietta nodded, more for his sake than hers._

_"Hey, can you talk?", Maria asked. "Use your words."_

_"Yes", the brunette forced out, making her voice loud enough to be heard._

_"Cool!", Lance said with a bright smile, his voice gaining a noticeable edge. "Now listen up. We don't like her very much."_

_"Who does?", Maria asked incredulously._

_"Let me_ finish _", Lance snapped, smile vanishing. Hard eyes bored into the brunette like lasers. "We don't like her. And you workin' with her on that project doesn't make me like you much either."_

_"I-I didn't ask to work with her", Henrietta stammered, eyes unable to meet his. "It was the...the teacher's choice!"_

_"I don't give two shits who put you with her!", hissed Lance. "You hangin' around a_ loser _like her and catchin' us givin' her what she deserves and about to squeal makes you like her! A filthy, stinkin'_ freak _who's better off_ dead _for the good of the world!"_

_"Not to mention that she dresses like this is Sunday every day", Gavin chimed in with a chuckle._

_"And that she cried when_ someone _made her sad", added Maria in a mocking tone._

_"But...b-but—"_

_"The only 'but' here might just be yours tomorrow mornin'!", Lance snarled. "When we hesr someone snitch, we make sure they regret_ ever _stickin' their nose where it don't belong!"_

 _"That's right", Maria cheered. "You_ show _her, Lance!"_

 _"I_ will! _" Lance strode forward to Elsa and knelt down to her level. He glanced back at her._

 _"If you decide to squeal, this is you_ _!", Lance shouted before turning back and hitting Elsa's face with his fist—hard._

_Henrietta screamed, terror taking over every cell in her body at the delivered blow. She kept up with the anguished shrieking as Elsa fell on her side to the ground and Gavin joined in on a brutal beating of the other girl, punching and kicking her violently and just doing anything possible to hurt her as much as they could._

_"STOP IT!", she screeched and cried. "Stop it, just stop hurting her! Leave her alone!"_

_"Shut the fuck up, you little bitch!", Maria yelled, angrily throwing her to the ground. The girl knelt down and pulled the teary-eyed brunette up to her face by her shirt._

_"You trying to damage my hearing is gonna bring hell", the black-haired girl hissed. "Stop screaming and grow your ass up! Oh wait..."_

_A scream reached out and grabbed the attention of both girls, making them both forget what was happening between them._

_It was the most pain-filled, agonized noise that Henrietta had ever heard in her life. It was also the most horrifying thing she'd ever heard._

_"No!", Henrietta screamed, tears shamelessly streaking down her face. "Let her go, no! Stop hurting her, please stop hurting her!"_

_She struggled against Maria's iron grip like a wild animal wanting to get out of its cage, continuing to scream, continuing to watch Elsa be beaten senseless, knowing that there wasn't anything she could do, but somewhat wanting to be near her and help her somehow._

_Maria got irritated at Henrietta's constant shrieking again, striking her across the face with her palm with a startled yelp. The brunette gasped and stopped struggling, her agonized, fearful cries still continuing, even after Lance and Gavin had stepped away from Elsa and made their way towards her and Maria, who still restrained her from getting away._

_"What a little baby", Lance commented._

_Gavin chuckled. "As in,_ cry _baby."_

_"She was screamin' so loud", Maria told her friends. "Thought she was gonna bust my eardrums, didn't ya hear?"_

_Gavin appeared to think for a moment. "I heard something along the lines of 'Waaah! Waaah! Stop hurting her, stop hurting her, waaaah!'"_

_The mockery made her cry much harder than before._

_"You see?", Maria asked incredulously. Leaning down at her, she gave her a far from friendly smile._

_"Crybaby bitch", she told her bluntly. "That's all you are. No wonder Elsa over there hates you."_

_"Who'd_ ever _wanna hang around someone like you?", Gavin taunted her. "She's just straight-up toxic!_ Toxic! _"_

_Lance said nothing, but walked over to her and leaned in front of her face. He pointed over at Elsa, who was lying in pain on the grass._

_"This is what'll happen if you squeal", he explained stonily. He stood up straight, eyes still on her._

_"So you better think twice 'bout what you do next, crybaby", he said, starting to walk off. "'Cause we'll sure as_ hell _give you somethin' to cry about."_

_He leaned forward so he was mere inches from her face._

_"Snitches. Get stitches. And end up. In ditches", the boy reiterated. "You dirty-ass_ bitch. _"_

_And then he stood up and walked away. Gavin and Maria then followed their friend to the minivan, the latter's grip on Henrietta's arms thankfully going away as well._

_The three of them headed to the minivan, starting a friendly conversation amongst themselves...as if they had never just threatened to hurt her. As if they hadn't hurt Elsa as badly as they had._

_As if nothing had happened at the front of the school at all._

_It wasn't until the minivan drove off of the campus that Henrietta stood up; even then, the movement was cautious, fearful that the four students would notice, drive back and make sure that she stayed down. Like they had done with Elsa._

Elsa...

Elsa!

_"Elsa!", Henrietta cried, rushing over to the injured blonde's side. The more clearer sight of her on the ground that she got made her involuntarily gasp out of sheer horror. Her eyes widened, and she was frozen stock still._

_Elsa was_ hurt _; moreso than Henrietta had imagined. There was blood profusely pouring out of her nose and her mouth, painting the lower half of her face a garish shade of red. Her left eye was swelling along with her right one, and so was her bottom lip. There were cuts, scrapes, and bruises all over her, the most noticeable being her nose, a large, ugly, purple and black one on her side, which Henrietta could see since her white shirt had ridden up her stomach during the beating._

_And then there was her right arm. Around and on Elsa's elbow was a sickening shade of purple-red. The skin itself seemed to be puffier than usual there as well. There were also scratches on both sides of the arm, from the shoulder all the way down to the wrist; some long, some short...some looked like they were healing up...others looked more recent and painful-looking. In fact, it was the same thing with the other arm, minus the massive bruise._

_"_ Elsa! _", the brunette all but sobbed, falling on her knees once more and bawled in her hands._

_Oh Lord, this was so awful. This whole thing was so horrible._

_Why had those kids done what they did to her? Why did they find it so necessary in bringing her to this horrific state, battered and bloodied on the school campus?_

_And they made her suffer as well, forcing her to watch it all unfold. Not only that...they had threatened to do the exact same thing to her if she told somebody._

_Why?_

_That was the one question on her mind._

_Why._

_Why?_

Why?!

_She heard a vehicle nearby them. The girl turned around sharply with fear that her theory of Lance, Gavin, Maria, and their blonde-haired companion returning was true, only to see a different kind of car stop and park right across from where she was kneeling next to Elsa._

_The vehicle was very familiar to her; a red Corolla with four doors. Even more familiar was the man stepping out of the vehicle and slamming the car door behind him._

_"Henrietta?!", Jose shouted out her name, voice alarmed._

_Immediately, the brunette felt an overflowing amount of relief._

_"Jose!", she cried, more tears rolling down her cheeks as she stood up. She wanted so badly to run into her caretaker's arms, to hold onto himwith all the strength she had in her and never let him go...but there was also Elsa, still lying on the ground, almost lifelessly, whom she couldn't just leave._

_She was so conflicted, so she just stood right where she was as went over and stood by the passenger-side door._

_That was when he noticed Elsa lying on the ground, and rushed over to the grass in concern._

_"Oh my God!", the man cried out in shock._

_Henrietta coverered her eyes and continued crying, peeking through her fingers to see Jose kneeling down and getting a closer look at Elsa's injuries, trying to get her attention as well by talking to her and putting two fingers in her face and asking how many she saw, both proving fruitless as Elsa made no response, still lying motionless._

_"Henrietta?", Jose asked her in a gentle voice as he turned to her. "Do you know what happened here?"_

_Oh..._

_The memories...those horrid, terrifying memories that happened not long before..._

_All the threats...the demeaning, hurtful words...the vicious, violent brutality handed to Elsa..._

_She hid her tear-streaked face from him, those events she wished she could forget replaying right in front of her._

_"No actually, tell me later", Jose corrected himself as he turned back to Elsa. "We need to get her to the hospital."_

_The brunette couldn't agree more with that._

_Jose lifted Elsa in his arms and did his best to calm her down, reassuring her that the injured girl would be alright, and that the doctors there would fix her up nicely, and that everything was going to be alright...though at the moment, it didn't feel that way._

_Her caretaker then instructed her to get Elsa's things, which were discarded on the ground, and put them in the passenger seat, which she did, despite the memory of the blonde's face getting whacked with her backpack being replayed in her mind when she laid eyes on it. She was then told to open the back door for him, the man gently putting Elsa in the seat and telling her to sit next to the girl so she didn't jostle during the ride to the emergency room, which she also complied with._

_At this point, Henrietta would do literally anything she was told, still scared for her safety and for Elsa's. The sight of what happened, especially up close, was hard to bear...and so was the possibility that it could be her alongside Elsa that was hurt by those_ monsters.

_..._

_But they were leaving now. They were going to get help for Elsa._

_The thought itself wasn't any reassuring. Neither was Jose driving out of the school parking lot to the hospital for that help._

_She was afraid. All she felt was afraid._

Now they were sat in the waiting room, a team of doctors having taken Elsa into their custody to treat her injuries. 

It seemed like distant hours ago that they had arrived with her. And it seemed like it would be a lifetime before they'd be allowed to see her again. 

And oh, did Henrietta want to see Elsa again. She wanted, _needed_ to know that Elsa was going to be okay, and that...well, there wasn't any other reason, really...other than that. All she wanted was to see her, and that desire had no words as explanation behind it. All it was was an emotion that was obvious, out in the open. 

Suddenly, a tall, bald man with a long moustache in a white coat came into the brunette's line of sight. He walked over towards where they were sat right across from the office desk where they admitted Elsa in the waiting room.

"Hello", he greeted them. 

"Hey", replied Jose.

"I'm Dr. Belisario", the doctor introduced himself. "Are you two here for Elsa?"

"Yes we are", Jose answered with a nod. 

"Is she okay?", Henrietta asked, close to crying again. 

"She's okay", Dr. Belisario replied to her. "She's going to be just fine. We're still taking care of her injuries right now, so unfortunately, she's not open for visitors yet. If you two would follow me please, it'd be best to discuss her condition in private?"

"Of course", Jose acquiesced, standing up. 

She quickly stood up as well and followed the doctor and Jose down the hall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhhhhhh.....the ending was rather flimsy in my opinion, but I hope you enjoyed anyway.


End file.
